Forty-eight Ways
by Celtic Blades
Summary: AU/Slash - Happy Yule, Everyone! The holidays are here and the celebrations, public and private, are in full swing. Eomer is overcome by the children, and Legolas is overcome by Eomer. Eomer/Legolas slash. Cultures clash and combine as man and elf find out what it means to love each other. This is now a stand alone. Please see A/N on Chaps 1 & 24. Eomer/Legolas slash.
1. Alright

**Forty-eight Ways**

A/N - This story started as the backstory for Fly on Broken Wings. However, it has taken on a life of it's own. The stories began to diverge and the secondary characters take up arms against what was going to happen to our heroes. In light of that, this story has become a stand alone romantic comedy and does not lead to the tragedy of Fly. That story will be told when this one is finished. So please enjoy this without worrying about darkening clouds on the horizon.

**Alright**

_I'll pick you up when you're feeling down  
I'll put your feet back on solid ground  
I'll pick you up and I'll make you strong  
I'll make you feel like you still belong -_

_Reamonn_

He sat so still, perched on the cold polished stone beside the pallet. He hadn't moved for hours, his arms curled loosely around his knees. With his head bent, as if in prayer, the long, lank and dirty hair fell in curtains, hiding the handsome features of his face. Occasionally the head would rise, deep hazel eyes fixed on the prone figure of his sister beside him. Tears ran unashamedly and freely, dripping from his nose to his filthy trousers. Attendants moved swiftly through the Halls of Healing, pausing for a moment to check the injured woman, looking at the man with sympathy, and then passing on to tend to others within their skill. Eowyn was beyond all help they could give, her only hope lay in the hands of Gondor's king.

His watcher had stood just as long, hidden in the shadows of the long hall of the infirmary. Arms crossed, a look of sadness firmly fixed across his finely boned face, the elf never moved, seemingly oblivious to the stir and commotion of the healers, the moans and cries of the injured. Tenderhearted Gimli, unable to stay where he could not help, had taken himself off to find a place for them both to sleep, somewhere among the ruined homes on this level of the White City. Legolas continued his silent vigil, more disturbed by the desperation of the broken man across the room than all the rest. He seemed diminished, shrunken into himself. Eomer had lost his King and looked now to lose his sister. Echos of the scream Eomer had given when he found her, broken and motionless on the field, still rang in the elf's head. Remembered grief swept over the elf, flooding him with compassion. It had not been so very long since he had mourned Gandalf, the young hobbits. He prayed now that a similar miracle would happen for the man, that Eomer would not lose Eowyn this day. Where was Aragorn?

Perhaps it was the isolation of the man that caught him, Legolas thought. Pippin sat vigil with Merry and Beregond would not leave Faramir, not even trusting him to the King's care. But Eomer had lost more than good companions, close friends in the battle. He had lost his King, his uncle. The fate of Rohan now rested on his exhausted shoulders. The slight figure that lay unmoving was the last vestige of his family. And there was no one left to sit with Eomer, to comfort him.

With the silver moonlight slanting through the windows, the King finally arrived, a small basin in his hands. Without a word to Eomer, he began to bathe Eowyn's wounds. The sweet smell of the herbs infusing the water filled the air, bringing a sort of peacefulness amid all the chaos. Tenderly, Aragorn called her name, murmuring to her softly. She seemed to stir, and for the first time, hope flickered across the man's face. Legolas continued his watch.

Gimli came up to him and spoke softly. He understood the tense stillness of his companion, and was loathe to disturb him. So he gave his message simply, without any of their usual banter.

"I've found us a small room," he began, pushing strands of his hair, come loose from his red braids, back away from his face. "It's in a house close to here, so you can check on our friends at will." He looked up at his tall companion. "How's the young hobbit?"

Legolas started. "Merry?" he asked, raising a brow. He'd almost forgotten in his preoccupation with the man from Rohan. "He's recovering quickly. Hobbits are amazingly resilient."

Gimli nodded and buffeted his friend on the arm. "I'm off for a quick bite. Will you join me, lad?"

The elf shook his head, his eyes fixing once again on the crouched figure across the room. Gimli sighed. "Well, you can find the house, just down the street. It wasn't too badly damaged in the attack. The window on the second floor is much bigger than it's builder ever planned, thanks to the bombardment, but it'll do for us. Six or seven down, just ask around if you can't find it, lad." Legolas looked down with a swift smile, then went back to watching the scene before him.

Aragorn had finished his ministrations and Eowyn seemed now to be deep in the comfortable sleep of exhaustion. He clasped Eomer on the shoulder, speaking softly. Relief washed across the man's face like sunshine chasing away the slate grey clouds of winter. Aragorn left him, other patients waiting for the healing hands of the King. Eomer started to stand up, muscles locked into place protested, and he nearly fell. Legolas was beside him instantly, catching and holding him upright while blood rushed to his feet, tingling and stinging. Eomer, shocked at the speed at which the elf had caught him, tried to blurt out his thanks, but the joy in him was so great that the blaze in his hazel eyes caught Legolas with its intensity and held him there for a moment, both speechless.

"She will live!" Eomer exulted, catching the elf by the forearm. "She will live, Legolas!"

The elf smiled back, reflected happiness on the pale face. "I share your joy, Eomer. It was she who defeated the Witch-King. Were it not for her valor today, the battle may have gone quite differently."

Eomer gave him a wry grin. "I wouldn't have cared if she'd been home knitting! My sister will live!"

Legolas felt his lip twitch in an answering grin, and realized he was still holding Eomer. He released him and the man stooped to gently push a strand of hair away from his sister's face. He winced at the contrast between his sister's white skin and his own bloodstained hands.

"Will you stay with her tonight?" Legolas asked carefully, not quite understanding this new feeling of wanting to help the new King of Rohan, to be a friend when he had none there, to take some small responsibility for his well being. "It would be to the better were you to have a small meal, perhaps clean up a bit."

Eomer grinned at the formal cadence of the elf's speech. "Of course, Legolas." he replied, too overcome with relief to refuse anything to anyone. "But I don't want to leave her. She might wake, you see, and if I were not here..."

"I understand." Legolas told him. "If you would excuse me for a moment?" he asked, as the man continued to lovingly stroke the hair of the sleeping woman. The the elf left the Hall on silent feet.

Eomer gazed at Eowyn, grateful to the bottom of his heart that the bleak darkness had passed from her form. He loved this fierce sister of his, for all their disagreements. He honoured her for her courage and rejoiced that he would be able to beg her forgiveness. War may have been the province of men, but this woman had dared all in her desire to protect her people, her friends, all those that she loved, and she had payed a heavy price.

Legolas returned followed by the healer and several orderlies. With great gentleness and care they raised the sleeping woman's pallet and carried her to a small room off the main hall, away from the injured and dying. Eomer followed, raising an eyebrow at the elf, who shrugged. As Eowyn was carefully laid in the bed, the healer checking her over and bandaging the injured arm, other servants arrived, bringing hot water and food. Legolas nodded at Eomer. Eomer was surprised as the men quietly set down their burdens and left. He turned to the elf and raised an eyebrow at him.

"I don't need all this," he said. "There are others, who require.." but the elf cut him off.

"You do need this." He replied, motioning to the tray. "There is always hot water in the House of Healing. I appropriated some, that's all." He felt the pitcher. "Come, quickly, before the coffee cools." He poured out a cup, and the aroma tantalized the man from Rohan. Eomer splashed some hot water in a basin and rinsed off his hands and face. He pushed his hair back out of his eyes, and gratefully took the cup. It was hot and strong and he drained it. Returning to the basin he pulled off his bracers, and began to tug at the buckles of his armour. His tired fingers fumbled and silently the elf lent his nimble hands to the task. Eomer quickly washed and bolted down the simple meal that had been served, one eye always on his sister, surreptitiously wiping a suspicious dampness from his cheeks from time to time. Legolas smiled as he watched the man, and when he finished, pulled a chair bedside the bed.

"Come, sit beside her," the elf said quietly. Eomer fell heavily into the chair, the day's exhaustion catching up with him. He stretched and realized the elf had knelt down to remove the man's boots.

"I can do that for myself!" he protested. Legolas ignored him and fetched a blanket from the chest. He shook out its soft folds and covered the man. Eomer sighed.

"Rest, Eomer King" the elf told him. "There will be councils and planning tomorrow, but for this night, spend it in the company of your dear one."

The man grinned at him as the elf turned and left, signalling the orderly to take the trays. He reached out and took Eowyn's uninjured hand in his own. As he went to see how Merry was faring, Legolas' smile was like sunshine.


	2. Better Days

**Better Days**

_I will slip again, and you'll find me_  
_I will live again, and you'll find me_  
_Run, but carry the meanings of your past_

_\- Breaking Benjamin_

Gondor had done the Rohirrim King proud. He had been tended by loving hands and now lay at peace on the rich marble stone in the chapel reserved for the great and good of the City. A cloak of gold had been laid beneath him and his hands gripped the sword that in life had been used to protect his people. Candlelight flickered about him, great sprays of early flowers surrounded the catafalque. The walls were hung in rich tapestries of green and gold, to honour the fallen king.

Eomer stood in the doorway of the chamber, eyes closed, lost in memories. He was oblivious to the rich aromatic torches that burned brightly, the guard of honour. He was back on the plains of his boyhood. Theoden had taken he and Theodred out riding, teaching them the tricks of lance and sword from horseback. He taught them chess, watching as they developed strategies and considered every move, stretched out on their bellies before the great fire in the Hall. Now Theodred slept under the hill with his fathers, and Theoden slept here, an august guest in the Citadel, waiting to return to the Mark, to lie beside his son at the last.

It was only when Eomer opened his eyes and turned that he saw the elf, standing quietly beside the oaken doors. He was surprised, for the dwarf had mentioned inspection of the ruins of the great gates of the city earlier and he had assumed the elf would join his friend.

"Forgive me," Legolas said softly, in his rich voice. Eomer noticed the trace of that delightful accent the elf tried so hard to hide. "I meant only to come and pay my respects. I had no wish to disturb you."

"There is nothing to forgive, Legolas." Eomer replied, forcing a smile to his lips, his eyes still dull with pain. "Thank you. My uncle had great admiration for the skills of the elves." He motioned for the elf to join him.

Legolas crossed to the bier where the body of the king reposed. Bowing his head, he placed his hand to his heart and spoke softly in Sindarin. Eomer did not understand the words, but the meaning was there, perhaps not as the Rohirrim expressed grief and sorrow, but plain all the same. The elf stood for a moment at the head of the white stone, eyes closed, and then, with a small nod, finished his rite and turned to the living.

"Shall I leave you here, Eomer King?" he asked softly. "I was going to try and find a tavern Pippin recommended. He claims they serve a decent ale. I would be glad of your company, should you wish to join me. Perhaps it is time you had a meal as well?"

Eomer looked at the clear blue eyes, earnest and full of sympathy, and turned away from the dead. "I think a cup would be welcome, thank you" he said, following his friend. "Before we do, however, I would like to look in on Eowyn."

"Of course," Legolas smiled. "Pippin tells me she is recovering quickly. He is my source of gossip amid all this bustle."

As they walked through the ruined streets of the city, winding downwards in its great spiral, Legolas asked tactful questions about Theoden. Eomer found himself disclosing happy memories of his uncle, pushing away his sorrow in telling of his goodness, his kindness, his love for his people. The tragedy of the past years slipped away in the remembered brightness of those times.

He also noticed, although the elf did not seem to, the curious glances that they received. Certainly there were enough men of Rohan wandering the streets that he would not be an object of attention, if must be the elf. Legolas moved with an unnatural grace, navigating around fallen brick and stone without slowing, never missing a step. He also seemed to be unconscious of the looks that ranged from curious to approving.

The elf himself was oblivious to all but the feelings of the man beside him. As Eomer's mood changed from black grief to smiling remembrance, an answering smile rose like dawn across his delicate features. By the time they had reached Eowyn's rooms, the black despair had lifted from the man, enabling him to greet his sister with composure.

Eowyn sat in her chair by the window, looking out at the blue skies, the white clouds drifting, avoiding the view to the east that reminded her of the great darkness that had consumed her. Her face lit in delight as her brother entered. Eomer was so happy to see her looking so much more robust than she had the day before that he missed the quick darkening of her eyes when she noticed his tall companion. Legolas did not.

"Eowyn, you look so well!" Eomer exclaimed, bending to kiss her on the forehead. "How do you feel?" he asked, taking her uninjured hand.

"Better," she told him, a slight blush colouring her pale skin. She looked to the elf. "Has Master Gimli also come?" she asked.

"No, my Lady," he said quietly. "The prospect of rebuilding on such a scale has him giddy. Had he known this was our destination, however, I don't think even that would have kept him away. I am sure he sends his best regards. I am pleased to see you so much recovered." The elf bowed his head, hand on heart. "I shall not intrude on your visit. I shall await you in the Hall, Eomer King." He left quickly.

"I ran into Legolas while I was with Uncle," Eomer told her quietly, pulling up the other chair and speaking quietly. "They have done him great honour, here in the White City. Merry tells me that he and Pippin were permitted to stand guard last night."

"I suppose Merry has become your squire now, brother?" she asked him, eager to turn the conversation. "Will you take him into your service?"

"If he wishes. I have a suspicion, though, that young Meriadoc would rather be your champion." He sighed and shook back his hair. "I was wrong about him, Eowyn, and about you, too."

"We've spoken of this before, Eomer," she said, taking both his calloused hands in hers. "You were right about the horrors of battle. I was a fool. A lucky fool, that he, that Lord Aragorn was able to bring both Merry and I back. Please," she asked him, a slight tremor in her voice now, "please don't speak of it again. It brings back too many dark reflections for me."

"Of course, Eowyn," he cried, springing from his seat and kneeling before her, wrapping his arms about her waist. "Forgive me. I just wanted you to know how wrong I was, about your courage..." he dropped his head in her lap and she gently brushed back the hair from his face. "I thought I had lost you, too. I don't know how to be King." he admitted quietly. "I'm afraid, now. I need your advice more than ever. I promise you now, never to disregard it."

"You will be a splendid king, Eomer." she told him, looking down at him fondly. "The Rohan will prosper again under your wise rule."

He looked up at her. "Wise?" He raised an eyebrow. "Not me, Eowyn. Are you sure you won't be queen? I would gladly stand aside for you."

"No, Eomer, you must do this. And," she added gently, lifting him up, "kings don't kneel. Stand up straight, now, look at you." She brushed imaginary dust from his trousers and motioned him to take his seat, with a sister's gentle ruthlessness. "All will be well. Lord Aragorn will be more than willing to assist you with any advice." She turned so he didn't see the faint stain on her cheeks.

They were interrupted by a confident knock at the door.

"Has Gimli come after all?" Eomer asked, as Eowyn sweetly called for the visitor to enter.

Faramir came in, his wide smile fading slightly as he recognized her companion. "Your Majesty," he bowed. "My Lady. I did not mean to disturb you. I will come again later if you will permit it?"

Eomer looked from Faramir to his sister and back again. "Not at all!" he said, rising. "I have an engagement with Legolas to keep. It is kind of you to come and check on Ewoyn, Faramir." Faramir's quick look down at the floor confirmed his thoughts, and kissing Eowyn once again, he left them to themselves.

Pippin's tavern was quickly found and a table found near the back of the crowded room. Legolas and Eomer squeezed together on the bench and when the servingman brought ale, Legolas wrinkled up his nose for a moment, while Eomer downed his tankard and asked for another.

"Before that, my good man, what food have you ready?" Legolas asked seriously, looking sideways at Eomer. "My friend hasn't eaten at all today."

"There's stew, my lord," the man told them.

"No lord, just an elf," Legolas replied with a smile. "Full of nourishing turnips or some such, I gather?"

"Well, yes, my, er, Master Elf," the man said, colouring slightly, but with an answering grin. "But I do believe a bit of pork may have been run through the broth sometime during the day."

"Better and better!" Legolas chuckled. "Bring us two bowls of your best then, and a pitcher of beer." The man inclined his head and left.

Eomer let out the laugh he'd been holding. "Why here, for turnips and beer, when there is better to be had at the Citadel? And why try for anonymity? There is exactly one elf in the city, that I know of. Rumors spread, my friend. You and the dwarf are not easily mistaken."

Legolas' eyes twinkled as he waved a finger at Eomer. "Ah, but there are rumors and there are secrets, and in the city nothing is unknown. Gimli and I shall be forgotten by everyone but our friends very shortly." He looked across the room. "Don't tell Gimli, but I don't mind taverns all that much. He drinks too much when he gets the chance, and, well, you saw him at Meduseld. I have to haul him to bed, and then he keeps me up all night."

For some unfathomable reason, Eomer was startled at this. "Do you usually share a room then?" he asked.

"Yes," the elf sighed. "Rumor says it is because we are the best of friends, never to be separated, but the real reason is that I require much less sleep than the rest, and his snoring would wake a dragon." He shook his head. "He would tell you it is so that he can keep watch over me, so that he will never have to explain to my father why he let something terrible happen to me." Eomer stared at him. "He, Gimli, and my father, too, I suppose, consider me somewhat young to be out questing."

"And are you?" Eomer blurted, before realizing it might be rude.

"Gandalf and Elrond didn't think so," Legolas grinned. "I'm not planning to go home for some time, so I don't know what my father is going to say."

"You ran away from home?" Eomer laughed. "So Gimli is your guardian, in a way? Are he and your father friends?"

"Let us say that our families have a history. Gimli is not my guardian, although he is my best friend." He looked around the tavern again. "I don't have many in this part of the world."

"Well, here is another," Eomer told him, as the servingman brought their food. All the black gloom of the morning had disappeared.


	3. C'Mon!

**C'Mon!**

_What would my head be like  
If not for my shoulders  
Or without your smile  
May it follow you forever  
May it never leave you  
To sleep in the stone,  
May we stay lost on our way home_

_\- Panic at the Disco with FUN_

The great halls of the citadel had been thrown open to be made into temporary accommodation for those who had lost their homes. The kitchens laboured day and night to feed the masses who worked diligently to clear the rubble and begin the rebuilding. Despite the desolation wrought by the war, the citizens of Gondor found solace for their sorrow in the victory the small hobbit had won for them and faced the remaking of their great city and their shattered lives with renewed determination.

Taking a break from organizing the work crews, apportioning resources and settling innumerable disputes between craftsmen and merchants, Aragorn and Eomer made their way across the crowded room that had once been a great ballroom, now serving as a dining hall, with rude tables and benches brought in to feed the masses. They nodded to those who bowed at the passage of the kings. The slight lull their appearance made in the noisy dining hall allowed them to hear the voice they sought. They smiled at each other as they crossed to where Gimli lectured Legolas.

The dwarf had paused in his dinner to emphasize his comments with brisk movements of his hands. Legolas sat across from him, meal finished, arms crossed. Gimli's emphatic words seem to bounce off the elf's calm bearing.

"That is why the caves are so incredible." Gimli was saying. "They need so little from us to fully expose their beauty. It's a wondrous thing, like nothing any dwarf has found. A month would hardly be enough time to see everything."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Fangorn," he said simply.

Aragorn's chuckle alerted them to his and Eomer's presence. They began to push out of their chairs to stand, but Aragorn waved them back. He and Eomer sat beside them, accepting ale and plates of stew from the serving man who ran to attend them. The savoury aroma reminded Eomer he hadn't eaten since the night before and he took his first spoonful without accounting for the heat. Legolas smiled at him as he quickly tried to blow air into his mouth to cool it.

"The debate continues, I see" Aragorn said, in a resigned tone, as Gimli took another bite from his bread. "Any closer to a resolution?"

"He won't see reason, lad." Gimli said, speaking around the crumbs. "Obviously the caves are the right choice, but he" and here he jerked a thumb at Legolas for emphasis, "is being stubborn again and has a thousand arguments against it."

"Debate?" Eomer asked, having swallowed and reaching for his ale. "What about?"

"On what to see first," Aragorn interjected, as Gimli nodded and took another bite of the fresh bread, oblivious to the butter seeping into his beard. "Gimli has his heart set on the Glittering Caves at Helm's Deep but Legolas is holding out for Fangorn. It's been going on for some time now."

Gimli swallowed a mouthful of ale. "Only because elves won't admit they're wrong. We've been sleeping in forests for months, walking through woods, riding through woods, visiting in woods, stopping to pass the time of day with every tree we've run across." Eomer snorted at that and the dwarf continued. "Now, when we have the opportunity, no, the privilege of stopping in a place as special, as thrilling, as spectacular as the caves, he digs in his heels and demands to go and see more trees. What is there in forests to beguile a dwarf, I ask you?" Gimli fairly slammed his tankard back onto the table. Eomer glanced at Aragorn who had started his meal placidly, obviously unperturbed by the dwarf's vehemence.

Legolas tilted his head. "Lothlorien," he replied, with a respectful tone in his voice. Gimli stopped his tirade and, to Eomer's surprise, a look of incredible tenderness passed over his face. He looked fondly at the elf for a moment, but then drew his brows down and continued.

"You see?" he asked, waving a hand in his friend's direction. "He's an answer for everything! How can you argue with that?" The dwarf sighed. "Nay, lad, we'll not visit Lothlorien again."

Aragorn chuckled at them. Eomer, hoping to forestall more of the argument, broke in.

"What is it about the caves that makes them so special, Gimli?"

"I'd not expect a man to appreciate them, lad, but to a dwarf, they are the most miraculous things ever seen! Crystal and gem formed perfectly by nature, lovingly carved out by the waters of the earth itself. It's enough to make you weep." He smiled again, with wonder this time, and the memory of the short time he'd been able to see them.

"Whichever you decide to do first, the Mark is welcome to you both." Eomer said. "I'd be more than happy to have you visit for a good long time. Do you have any certain plans before your return to the north?"

"The elf's got wanderlust." Gimli told him bluntly. "Won't be happy until he's met every blade of grass in the world."

"That's not it." Legolas said curtly, causing the others to stare at him. "I know my home, but the world is so much more than I ever could have imagined. I want to know what else there is. I've spent my whole life in one place, and now I have the chance to see everything else." He shrugged. "I'm curious."

Gimli snorted. "So the first thing you want to see is another forest?"

Legolas looked down at him. "You don't have to come," he said candidly. "I'm old enough to travel myself." Aragorn raised an eyebrow at him.

"Really now?" Gimli said. "I'll just drop off a note with your father on my way through the Mirkwood, shall I?" His voice dripped sarcasm. "Not to worry, Lord King, I've left the Prince talking to some Ents. He'll be home whenever he takes a notion to." He laughed. "Not likely, lad. I know your father's temper."

"I agree with Gimli on this, my friend," Aragorn said, looking from the dwarf to the elf. "It's only natural that your father should be appraised of your plans. He may require you back in the Mirkwood."

"As the Prince, I'm surprised he allowed you to come at all." Eomer mused, thinking over his own recent bereavement. "Things can change so quickly, and if something dire and unexpected should happen to him..."

"To Thranduil?" Gimli burst in, a look of incredulity in his eyes. "Lad, Thranduil is the dire and unexpected that happens to other folk!"

Eomer looked to Legolas, who was grinning at the dwarf. "That's about right," he said.

"Happen to Thranduil!" Gimli sputtered, reaching for his ale again. "The Elf-King is nigh indestructible!" He raised his tankard in salute. "Wishing him nothing but the best, of course, elf," he said.

Legolas merely continued to grin, a mischievous twinkle in those sky blue eyes.

"I had no idea," Eomer whispered to Aragorn, whose roguish eyes danced with laughter. "Theoden could be a terror..." he trailed off.

"He's the Elf-King," Aragorn explained. "His rule is absolute and elves do live forever." He shrugged and mopped up the last of his stew with his bread. "He's something of a legend in the north."

"Do the dwarves use him to frighten children?" Eomer asked, amused.

"Don't even joke about it, lad," Gimli shivered. "His Hall is deep in the earth, with dungeons so secure not even a dwarf could escape."

"As you would know," Legolas said softly.

"That's about enough of that, gentlemen," Aragorn interrupted. "Remember where you are." He looked pointedly about the room of working folk. "They wouldn't understand."

Legolas smirked and raised an eyebrow at Gimli, who scowled for a moment, then broke into a low chuckle.

"Aye, Aragorn, you're right about that. Now," he said, wiping at his beard with his sleeve, "I've a meeting with some of your so-called masons." He shook his head. "I'll not see them do a patch job on the great walls of the White City. Whole sections will have to be pulled down and rebuilt. Not only for you, lad," he said, nodding at Aragorn, but we owe it to the memory of Boromir, who loved this city, these people so much."

Legolas lowered his head for a moment, and Aragorn closed his eyes. While Eomer had known Boromir only slightly, he had liked the man, and he was beginning to have his own personal reasons for wishing Minas Tirith restored to its former glory.

"You know stonework, then, Gimli?" Eomer asked.

"All dwarves know the stone, Eomer," Gimli told him with pride.

"It's what their heads are made of," Legolas pointed out. Aragorn glared at him, but Gimli ignored the elf.

"I've a few questions about Helm's Deep, if you've the time," Eomer continued. "I have some ideas, but my experience is very limited. Could we talk for a few minutes on your way to this meeting?"

"It's not for a while yet, Eomer, since Aragorn has to go and soften a few heads before they'll listen. Why don't we discuss it now?" The dwarf looked around the crowded room. "We'll make way for some of these other poor souls to get their bite and sup."

"I'll send for you, Gimli," Aragorn called as the dwarf, every ready to talk masonry led the King of Rohan away, asking basic questions regarding the construction of the fortress.

"Will you need me?" Legolas asked his friend. Aragorn looked a little surprised.

"You're volunteering for an afternoon of reconstruction plans?"

The elf's eyes followed the tall man and the sturdy dwarf. "Well, you know how he gets," he said vaguely. "Someone needs to remind him to take a break now and then."

The open windows filled Eomer's room with bright sunshine as Eomer and Gimli continued their discussion, hunched over the papers spread on the table. Legolas, seated at one end of the long table, jotted notes down as they spoke, occasionally adding a remark of his own. It surprised Eomer at how quickly Gimli had seen to the heart of his questions and how expertly he outlined the plans for the repair of the Deeping Wall. He had been surprised when the dwarf warrior explained that he did, indeed, understand stone, but he had definitely underestimated his skills as an engineer. Diagrams for scaffolding and designs for the rebuilding appeared quickly, and without the usual banter between dwarf and elf. They were both eager to help in the restoring of the world they found themselves in.

A knock at the door disturbed them, and at Eomer's call, Eowyn came in. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright. The deep green of her gown made her face appear as a delicate flower, raising from the grasslands. She drew back slightly as she realized her brother was not alone in the rooms assigned to him.

"Eowyn, welcome!" Eomer exclaimed, as they stood up. He crossed the room to take her hand and lead her in. "We're working on the plans for Helm's Deep." He kissed her on the cheek and brought her to a chair. Gimli poured her a goblet of wine and handed it to her with a deep bow.

"My lady, you look wonderful! Your recovery is a great joy to us all." He beamed up at her. Legolas inclined his head politely.

Eowyn smiled brightly at the dwarf, but some of the sparkle left her eyes as she faced the steady gaze of the elf. She turned quickly to Eomer.

"I had wanted to speak privately with you, Eomer," she said. She took a sip of the wine. "If this is a bad time, I can come back."

"Not at all!" Gimli said, preventing any answer Eomer might make. "We were just about to take a break. I need to meet with Aragorn before we go much farther with these." He turned to the elf. "Come, Legolas, let's not dawdle."

Legolas bowed his head and giving Eomer a rueful smile, followed the dwarf out the door. He did not mention the trace of something, embarrassment perhaps, that had swiftly filled Eowyn's eyes as Gimli mentioned Gondor's king.

"How are things proceeding?" Eowyn asked. "Gimli's help will be invaluable."

Eomer settled his big body back into his chair. "Yes," he agreed, pouring himself a goblet of the wine. "His knowledge of stone is formidable. Legolas has made some good suggestions as well. It appears the hall of the Elven-King is underground."

Eowyn made a small sound of dismissal. "You doubt him?" Eomer asked.

She shook her head put her wine back on the table. "Of course not. Gimli has told me of some of his exploits. It's just that I don't understand those two."

Eomer lowered his brows. "How so?" he asked her.

"Gimli is so charming, such an outgoing person. He is quick to laugh and quite gallant." Her face brightened as she thought of her dwarven friend. "But Legolas, well, he's always so serious, so proud. He hardly speaks. He seems...condescending." She lowered her eyes, remembering a certain day, certain words. "And yet, they are the best of friends, still sharing a room. I would have thought their differences would have made such a friendship difficult."

Eomer shrugged. He didn't recognize the elf Eowyn described, but then again, she'd not spent much time with him. He was sure as she got to know him better, her opinion would change. "Not everything worthwhile is easy," he said. "What was it you wanted to talk to me about."

Her face lit up. "Faramir."


	4. Trouble

**Trouble**

_The trouble is you're keeping me up at night,  
Twist and turn til the morning light.  
You're trouble, you're trouble.  
The only way out is the way you came in,  
Let the siren call, Let the storm begin,  
Cause you're trouble, you're trouble._

_One Two_

The hammering on the bedroom door was insistent. Gimli grumbled loudly, he had gotten comfortable at last on the small bed he shared with the elf and had been in that blissful place between relaxation and dreaming. Legolas was perched in the window, one knee bent, looking out at the stars and humming softly to himself.

"What?" the dwarf demanded, somewhat put out by the lateness of the hour and the importunity of their visitor.

"Is that you, Gimli?" Pippin's voice came through the wood. "We've had a devil of a time finding you!"

"We've news!" Merry exclaimed, bursting in, followed closely by Pippin. Both wore their regular clothes, not the livery of their offices, and looked full of importance and impatience.

"Is anything wrong?" Gimli snapped at them.

"Not at all!" Pippin beamed at him. "It's good news for a change."

"We could use some," Gimli replied, pulling himself to a sitting position in the bed. Legolas grinned at the hobbits from his window, then reached down to light the candle on the press they used as a table. The press, along with the bed and a single chair were the rooms only furnishings. A few old rugs lay on the wooden floor and the tapestries covering the cold white walls could have done with some mending. The hobbits looked about themselves in the flickering light, then at each other.

"This is a very small room they've put you in, Gimli," Merry observed. "I'm sure you would have been given better quarters had you asked. We've been given quite spacious accommodation, as befitting our status as heroes." Merry's eyes twinkled with good humour at his fatuous little speech.

"Do you realize how many refugee families could be housed in rooms that size?" Gimli pointed out. "This," and he spread his arms to encompass their little room, "fits our needs just fine, thank you." He looked over at the elf, who winked at the hobbits. "Get the ale out, will you, lad," he asked Legolas. "I'm sure the boys didn't just come to gloat about our little attic hideaway."

Legolas unfolded himself and poured ale for them, Merry taking the one chair while Pippin sat on the bed beside Gimli. "Cheers!" the hobbit said, raising the tankard.

"It's very exciting, what's happening," Merry said, sipping at his drink. "The elves are almost here."

Gimli and Legolas looked at each other, then started to laugh.

"It's not exactly a secret, Merry," Legolas told him. "I met with Elrond's messenger myself."

The hobbit's face fell. "Then you know that the Lady Arwen..."

He didn't get a chance to finish the sentence. Legolas, with his cat-like speed had clamped a hand over his mouth and whispered to him and Pippin in a ferocious voice, "We don't say that. Ever. Do. You. Understand?" Merry nodded while Pippin, eyes wide, hastily agreed.

"You've not told anyone else this news, lads?" Gimli asked them sternly.

"We'd decided to share it with you first," Pippin said.

"Frodo told you?" Legolas asked, his dark brows drawn down and he scowled at them. Silently, the hobbits shook their heads. "Frodo does not gossip. Nor does Samwise. Therefore I can only conjecture that you've been eavesdropping again." Legolas let go of Merry and looked over at Gimli. "Aragorn is not to know about a certain guest at the coronation," he continued, looking back down at the hobbits. "Lord Elrond himself has decided this. You will find that he is not as understanding as the dwarf over there. Or me, for that matter."

"So go back to your great bloody rooms and keep your bloody mouths shut, and let decent folk be about their rest." Gimli growled, draining his ale and handing the cup to Pippin, who put it back on the press.

"About that," Merry began, rubbing the back of his neck.

"We can't," Pippin interjected. "Sam's shown us the door. Given us the boot. Said we were keeping Frodo from his sleep." He shook his curly head. "And after everything we'd done to keep his spirits up."

"We were a bit loud, perhaps," Merry added. "But I think that Sam overreacted a bit."

"Surely heroes such as yourselves can find another room befitting your status," Legolas chuckled, but Gimli grimaced.

"Space is at a premium, lad," he said darkly. "And with the elves arriving in the morning and the coronation set for the day after, I'm willing to bet there's nowhere else for them to go."

"You can't mean," Legolas gasped, looking horrified, "that we keep them in here, with us? Surely not, Gimli!"

"The commons are already packed in like cordwood, Legolas. We could at least keep them out of trouble."

"I'll go talk to Sam myself," the elf said. "Where are we going to put them?"

"We've slept on the floor before," Merry pointed out. "I wouldn't try talking to Sam in this mood, Legolas. It's like he's become Frodo's mother."

"Frodo carries more than you'll ever understand," Gimli said warningly.

"Don't you think we know that, Gimli?" Pippin retorted, holding up both hands. "We see the change in him more than anyone. We're family, after all! So don't lecture us about Frodo!"

"Calm down, all of you!" Legolas said fiercely. "We all love and honour Frodo. Just as we honour you for the great things you have done in this war. But now," he paused, tapping his lip with a string-calloused finger, "we need to find you a place to sleep."

"Make up your mind to it, lad, they're stuck with us. Tomorrow they can go down on bended knee and beg Sam's forgiveness. Tonight, just find them some blankets and roll them up on the floor." Gimli said, tiredly. "They won't wake me."

"Nothing wakes you," Legolas said tartly, pacing the floor. "But you know they'll talk for hours! No, we'll do it this way. They can share the bed with you tonight. I wanted to get properly cleaned up before the elves arrived anyway." He stared at the hobbits who were regarding him with disbelief. "It's your own fault, the pair of you!"

"But the snoring and the, well, the other..." Merry said, floundering, waving his hands about.

"Don't worry, he's not drunk enough for that," Legolas told him. "Here, hold this for me." He handed Merry the candlestick and other things from its top and opened the press, removing clean clothes from it.

"It's not a very big bed," Pippin said, almost reproachfully.

"We fit quite nicely," Gimli said. "If two hobbits take up more space than one skinny elf, I'll shave my beard. The feather mattress is quite good."

"He stole it from anther bed," Legolas admitted, closing the press and replacing the candle. "Somewhere on this level there's some poor soul with the old one."

"A small compensation for all our service to the city," Gimli said, smugly. "Now, I'm going to sleep. Blow out that candle and get into bed."

The hobbits shot one last desperate glance at the elf who was halfway into the hall. "I'll see you at breakfast," he told them, closing the door behind him and grinning madly.

Legolas luxuriated in the bath, stretching out and allowing his muscles to relax. The tenseness he hadn't realized he'd been carrying left him, and he soaked for quite a while, letting his thoughts wander. Merry and Pippin, he mused, grown so much over the past months and still so much the same! He sighed and ducked his head under the water, and gave his hair a thorough washing. When he was done he dried quickly, shifting into trousers and the loose tunic he'd brought with him. And then he began to spend what, for anyone other than an elf, was an inordinate amount of time on his hair. He wanted it to dry perfectly straight, with no hint of twist or the kinks that braiding it wet left.

He smiled absently as he continued to reminisce about the pair of hobbits, now most assuredly either pelting Gimli with pillows or snuggled in beside him like kittens. The dwarf was right and Frodo would never completely recover from the evil of the ring. Sam would, if he didn't wear himself out with the care of Frodo first, but Merry and Pippin would never lose that love of life that had carried them willingly through so much danger. He wondered to himself where the next part of their adventures would take them and what kind of leaders they would become when they returned to that beloved Shire of theirs. The Farthings would never be the same, he chuckled to himself.

So he was surprised when the sound of another late night bather disturbed him.

"Aragorn?" he called softly, thinking he recognized the steps of the man.

"Legolas?" Eomer called back, "is that you?"

"Why are you up so late?" the elf asked, turning to face the man. He continued to slowly pull the comb through the cascades of white-blond hair that fell to the small of his back.

"You're up early," Eomer corrected. "It's only a few hours till dawn."

Legolas sighed. "Unexpected company," he explained. "Your esquire and Faramir's guard managed to upset Sam enough to banish them from their rooms. Naturally they made their way to the only fools willing to take them in."

"And did they continue their revels, driving you out to search for peace and quiet?" Eomer asked with a low chuckle.

"Not exactly," Legolas laughed gently. "I don't know if you've seen our quarters, but they aren't exactly palatial. I left them to the tender mercies of a tired dwarf. Perhaps this way they will learn to appreciate what's been given them."

"It was kind of you to give up your bed for them, though," Eomer said, settling on a bench opposite.

"Not kind at all, I'm afraid," Legolas said contritely, his blue eyes dancing with mischief in the lamplight. "There is only the one bed. And Gimli is not one to give up his blankets without a tussle."

Eomer forced a smile, although his mouth suddenly went dry.

"Fortunately, I, being an elf, do not feel the cold, and seldom have need for covers," Legolas continued blithely, still pulling the comb with long and even strokes. "Although I will confess to pulling them off him occasionally, just to keep him from becoming too complacent."

Eomer shifted a bit in his seat and cleared his throat. "Won't you be exhausted when you meet the elves this morning?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Not at all," Legolas told him. "I am looking forward to it very much." He wondered at the slight pulling back of the man. "Have you met Lord Elrond yourself?"

Eomer shook his head. "No, the only elf I know is you," he admitted. He closed his eyes against the sight of the dead elves that had fallen defending Helm's Deep. He remembered the harsh Sindarin that had passed between Aragorn and Legolas when Theoden demanded all the bodies be burned to prevent disease from spreading. Legolas had stalked off in a rage. It had been Gimli who had brought the elf back, hours later, still simmering with anger, but controlled and polite to both Theoden and Aragorn.

"Are there any special customs I should know?" he asked, opening his eyes again, and pushing the memory of that dark day behind him. "I wouldn't want to embarrass Aragorn, as my host, or you, as my friend."

"I shouldn't worry overmuch," Legolas told him, shrugging slightly. "You are the King of Rohan, after all. If you wish, I will introduce you to him personally." The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, a slight grin. "And you must accompany Gimli and I when we visit them after the formalities. The singing will be wonderful!"

"I suppose I shan't see much of you when they arrive, then," Eomer sighed unconsciously. "You'll be among your friends again."

Legolas' smile faded a bit. "I don't know about that," he admitted, his hands slowing in their task. "You see, Gimli and I, well, it is an unusual friendship. There are some old grudges..." he trailed off, lowering his comb. "Why are you here so early?" he asked suddenly, pushing back a section of hair and starting on another.

"Couldn't sleep," Eomer admitted, shrugging. "I started thinking about all the things that need to be done back in the Mark. I don't know how to get it all done."

"One thing at a time," the elf said. "Thranduil says start with the most important thing and work down. Delegate what you can. Your people trust you."

"Yes," Eomer said tiredly, "but they love Eowyn. I need her."

"Surely she will do all she can to help you," Legolas pointed out. "She is the White Lady, the heroine of both Rohan and Gondor. No other woman is held in as high esteem!"

"She," Eomer almost whispered, "has her own plans, I fear." Legolas said nothing, waiting, with baited breath. "She will follow her heart, my sister. And who am I to stop her? Hasn't she earned the right to happiness for herself?"

"Of course," Legolas said quietly. "I pray she may find it."


	5. Ever The Same

_**Ever the Same**_

_We were drawn from the weeds  
We were brave like soldiers  
Falling down under the pale moonlight  
You were holding to me  
Like someone broken  
And I couldn't tell you..._

_Rob Thomas_

The citizens of the White City were mad with joy. Not only had their king returned and been crowned by the White Wizard himself, he had taken the Lady Arwen, the Evenstar, as his queen. The coronation celebrations had turned into an impromptu wedding, Gandalf officiating, and more than one man there had wiped away a tear when they beheld the awe with witch Aragorn gazed at his Lady. Now everywhere in the city people rejoiced, in one noisy, boisterous party.

Legolas sought out Eomer, finding him standing somewhat to the side of the dancing in the Hall, flanked by Higa and Merry. The hobbit was once again in his armour, signifying that he was serving his lord. The man smiled as he accepted the arm the elf offered, gripping it firmly, while finding himself fascinated by the elf's robes, the silver coronet holding his hair in place. Even among the others of his kind, he stood out, perhaps because while the others glided with lazy grace through the rooms, on occasion Legolas twitched the skirts of the robes impatiently.

"A great day, Eomer King!" the elf crowed. "What think you of our new Queen?"

Eomer's face softened for an instant. "Surely she is the most beautiful woman, your pardon, elf, in the entire world," he said, with tones of respect.

"Don't let Gimli hear you say that, Sire," Merry said, an impudent smile dancing on his face.

"Merry!" Legolas interjected. His eyes turned hard as he glared at the hobbit. Merry did his best to look contrite, but it was impossible to keep the grin from spreading once again. Legolas sighed. "I've heard there's Dorwinion being served. Why don't you fetch some for us?"

"Fetch?" Merry protested, while Eomer reached down and tousled the curly hair in a gesture of affection. Squaring his shoulders, the hobbit strode off through the crowd, smiling widely as he returned the nods of greeting given him.

"He means well," Eomer said, while Higa grinned. "Theoden indulged him."

"Everyone indulges him," Legolas said, meeting Eomer's eyes. "He's altogether too charming for his own good."

"A gift indeed," Eomer said. "One that many would wish to posses."

Legolas snorted. "Charm is best used by those who do not think they have it," he remarked. Eomer stared at him for a moment and then started to chuckle. Legolas' lip lifted in an answering smile.

"Forgive me, I sound like the dwarf!" he said, patting down the sleeve of his robe. "It's the formality of the dress, I think. It always makes me feel as if I should be as wise as Elrond, dispatching advice to the world."

Eomer's hazel eyes twinkled. "Lord Elrond was dancing with my sister not a half hour past," he told the elf. "He looked as though he was enjoying himself thoroughly."

"I believe Gimli was determined to take a turn around the room with her," Legolas replied. "I hope her health is up to the strain."

"It seems the Lord Faramir has her now," Higa said, nodding to the couple as the patterns of the dance brought them to that side of the hall. "The Lady seems in great spirits, my lord."

"She does, doesn't she," Eomer mused, watching them, as a hint of something, sadness perhaps, or longing, flickered across his face. He reached up to push his hair back and smiled.

"The Lady has regained her full strength, then, Eomer King?" Legolas asked, wondering if he had imagined that shadow that crossed the man's brow.

"Yes, we're having trouble getting her to rest at all," the king answered, tilting his head and nodding slightly at Higa, who bowed and drew away from them. Eomer took Legolas by the arm and drew him in closer, speaking in a soft voice. "She's begun helping the healers in the Halls. She says she's foresworn battle forever."

"Healing is a noble calling," Legolas said cautiously, wondering what was sticking in the back of Eomer's mind.

"That's not the problem at all," Eomer said, in a tight voice. "Faramir has asked me, formally, for her hand!"

"He has?" Legolas replied in a shocked whisper, even as he lifted his eyes to find the couple. Eowyn, head back and smiling, caught his look and faltered in her steps.

"What is it?" Faramir asked quickly, tightening the arm around her waist. "Is it too much? Shall I return you to your brother?" He looked over at Eomer.

"No, no," Eowyn said, smiling determinedly at him. "Would you take me out for some air?" she asked. "A sudden flush of heat, that's all."

"Of course," Faramir told her, his eyes tender. He led her gently through the crowd to the arch that lead out to the courtyard.

"I told him she was free to decide for herself," Eomer continued, nodding as they left. "What else could I say?" He was surprised as he realized how much he took the elf's confidence for granted. "She's agreed to come back to Rohan for a little while, for Theoden's funeral and to help me get settled. Then she will return to marry him."

"I wish them great joy," Legolas said, automatically, his eyes clouded with confusion. "He is a good man, a man worthy of her."

"I know," Eomer sighed, "but it's so sudden."

"What is, Sire?" Merry asked, popping up between them so unexpectedly that he startled them both. He carried four cups and had a wineskin slung over his shoulder. "I couldn't find the Dorwinion, Legolas, but Pip assures me this is almost as good." He passed the cups, motioning to Higa to return and take his, and filled them quickly. "Shall we toast Strider's good fortune? Or perhaps my Lady's joy?"

Eomer stared down at him, while Legolas lowered his brows. "What are you talking about, Merry?" he growled.

"Anyone with eyes can see that my Lady is content and happy," Merry protested, his eyes wide and looking as innocent as he could. "Pip says my Lord Faramir wanders about with exactly the same look Sam has when he's thinking about Rosie Cotton."

"An esquire does not gossip about his betters, young hobbit," Higa said warningly.

"I'm not gossiping. I wish the Lady Eowyn all the happiness in the world." His face took on a ferocity that forced Higa back a step. "Who is there who knows her who wouldn't wish her the same? Show me the man and I will show him the error of his ways!"

"Enough, Merry," Eomer said, laying a hand on the hobbits shoulder. "You do your lady great honour. But this is not common knowledge, you understand."

Merry grunted, his eyes still flashing. "I'm not an idiot, Eomer King."

o0o0o0o

The summer sun shone bright and hot on the plains of Rohan, the day they laid Theoden to rest with his forefathers. Eowyn sang his death song, supported silently by Faramir who stood directly behind her. Merry, the tears coursing down his face unapologetically, was hugged fiercely by Pip, dressed in his best livery. Eomer stood still and silent, unable to find release in the tears the hobbits found so easily.

Once the rites were over and the company dispersed for the evening, Eomer found himself wandering the halls of Meduseld alone. He had waved off Aragorn's offer of companionship, Gimli's offer of a quiet pipe, sent Eowyn to Faramir for comfort. Almost automatically he found himself in the stables, looking for the assurance he always found in the care of Firefoot. A flash of white in the gloom of Arod's stall suddenly brought a half smile to his lips.

"Is he well, Legolas?" Eomer asked, leaning over the stall door.

The elf's head turned toward him, Arod's hoof still in his hand. "He is happy to be back with his friends, Eomer. He wishes to visit with them before we return to Gondor."

"So he shall," Eomer said. The elf released the hoof, caressed the horse's head gently, and turned to the King.

"Are you well, Eomer?" he asked, looking intently at him.

"I'm fine, I just..." then he stopped and shook his head. "I wish Theoden were still with us. I'm not ready for this. I was never intended to be king, just a warrior. I don't know how to rebuild a kingdom, how to lead men in peace."

"But you do know how to lead men," Legolas told him gently. "Your uncle gave you that gift. You can be strong in adversity and just with the weak."

Eomer looked over the half door at the elf, desolation written in his features. Legolas, seeing the bleakness in those hazel eyes, opened the door and pulled the man into the stall. He embraced him savagely, wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly. "You can be king, Eomer," he whispered into his ear. "Do not doubt yourself so much!"

"_I don't want to be,_" Eomer replied brokenly, even as he returned the embrace. "They're not supposed to be gone, Legolas! Theodred, Theoden, they were supposed to always be here. All I have left is Eowyn, and even she is leaving me!" His knees buckled and he fell against the wall of the stable, the elf still twined about him. Together they slid down until they were awkwardly sitting in the straw.

"Not forever," Legolas murmured, as the grief Eomer had fought for so long stormed up in his soul and broke free, tearing his throat with sobs, tears flowing freely. Arod nickered nervously at them, and the elf spoke softly in Sindarin, calming the beast, soothing the man. Eomer held on to Legolas as if the elf were the only thing anchoring him in the world, while the sorrow and loss spilled out of him in tidal waves of pain.

"Hush now, Arod," Legolas said tenderly, as he held his friend, still speaking in Sindarin. "Mir, oh, my Mir, my treasure, it will pass, this grief. Let it go, let the memories of your loved ones replace all the emptiness left in your soul. Let me help you." He gently pushed back the tangled hair, lay his cheek against Eomer's. When at last the great tortured spasms began to calm, he kissed the man's cheek, his hair. "It will be well, I promise. I will always be here for you, my friend," he whispered, switching back to Eomer's language.

Instead of pulling away in shame at his weakness, as Legolas half expected, the man pulled him in closer, burying his face in the elf's hair, breathing in its sun-kissed fragrance. Legolas relaxed into him willingly, absently realizing he was half sitting in the man's lap. Almost lazily he pushed Eomer's hair behind his ear, caressed the back of his neck, stroked his back. He felt Eomer tense and pulled back, meeting the gaze in those hazel eyes, full of longing and desire.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world for Legolas to bend down and gently kiss Eomer, tasting the hot tears that had spilled to his lips. He licked the salt away, murmuring "Mir nin", feeling Eomer's hot breath in his mouth.

Eomer suddenly pulled back and all but spilled the elf out of his lap. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he whispered, looking at the elf with horror.

"For what?" Legolas asked, suddenly embarrassed. "Dumping me in the straw?"

"I didn't mean for that to happen," Eomer said, scrambling to his feet. "I mean..." he broke off, looking away, at the ceiling, at Arod, who returned his gaze, puzzled at the behaviour of his visitors.

"I don't mind, Eomer," he told the man, standing gracefully and brushing straw from his trousers. "You needed that. Your secrets are my secrets, never worry."

"But, then," Eomer stuttered, refusing to look at Legolas.

"Desire after grief is a very human emotion, Aragorn tells me," Legolas said, in a matter of fact tone. "You have nothing to apologize for." He patted his hair down, trying to hide the trembling in his hands, the burning in his chest. "It is only your body telling you that you are still alive, still have so much to live for." He hoped the dark of the stable hid the colour that flushed his cheeks. "I believe that Elrond would recommend a hot bath, some wine, and a good night's sleep for you."

"And you?" Eomer asked, his voice slightly shaking.

"I shall be along shortly," Legolas told him, gripping him by the arm. "Save a cup for me. I will just finish up with Arod and be right behind you, my friend. Nothing has changed between us, Eomer. Nothing," he repeated firmly.

Eomer turned and left, and Legolas watched him go, a smile firmly across his fine features. Once Eomer left the stables, the elf covered his face with his hands and slumped back down to the floor.


	6. Secrets

**Secrets**

_'Til all my sleeves are stained red_  
_From all the truth that I've said_  
_Come by it honestly I swear_  
_Thought you saw me wink, no_  
_I've been on the brink,_

_One Republic_

Back in the White City, the company quickly fell back into it's own routine. Pippin, missing Merry, who had stayed behind to serve his King and his Lady in Rohan, followed Faramir like a small shadow, running errands for him and, as he reported to Gimli and Legolas, helping him decide which of the seventeen different outfits provided would be best for the forthcoming ceremonies. When Faramir had dismissed him for the evening, the hobbit would divide his time between Sam and Frodo, who were still recovering and enjoyed his jokes and tales about what the great persons of the city were about, and having a pint with the elf and dwarf.

Gimli was in his glory with the planning and the restorations. Aragorn had made it plain to everyone that the last decision on anything regarding the walls or structures of the city was Gimli's. As the grumbling masons and carpenters realized that the dwarf's vision for Minas Tirith was more wondrous than anything they could have devised on their own, they began to throw themselves whole-heartedly into the work. Even the old women took pride in the work they did, sweeping out ruined buildings, glad to play a small part in the rebirth of the city.

Aragorn, with Arwen by his side, tended the worst of the injured, the sick, and settled the disputes that inevitably arose. Arwen, now that her family, along with Gandalf, had returned to the north, was especially busy with healing. The city had taken her to its heart, and sometimes just the presence of the elf Queen was enough to comfort the worst cases. Her praises were sung loudly and she felt joy in her welcome.

It was the other elf of the White City that found himself at loose ends. For with all going on around him, Legolas did not find his skills really needed anywhere. He was a warrior, with no talent for healing. Gimli had draftsmen by the dozens to take down his every word and idea, turning them into workable diagrams. He started to feel lost in himself, wondering what his place here would be. There would be gardens, to be sure, but it was the wrong season for planting, and Gimli had not yet finished the areas in which they would be located. Aragorn always had time for a quick word and a cheerful buffet on the shoulder, but Legolas did not like to take him from important work. He rode Arod outside the city, scouting, but what was the point when ranger patrols did the same work, and quicker, too, knowing the area as he did not.

He pulled into himself. Gimli and Pippin noticed his laughter became softer, and then slightly forced. He began to spend time in the high places of the Citadel.

"Roof inspections," he said, half-mockingly, as Gimli and Pippin questioned him. He slept less and less, worrying Gimli, who wisely said nothing, knowing that the time had not yet come for Legolas to confide in him.

He ghosted through the streets at midnight, his Lorien cloak helping him to blend into shadows. There was something he felt he needed and had yet to find. It niggled at him, keeping him from rest, causing Gimli to throw pillows at him and order him to either settle down or get another room. He, who had always been silent and still, could no longer find peace in his own company.

A voice caught him, and he paused, by the door of the tavern. It was a trick of the night, of course. It was not the voice he sought, but it was close. He listened, hoping to hear that timbre, those vowel sounds that told him he'd found something close. But after a moment it laughed, and mocked him. Of course that was not what was missing in his life.

He crept in with the dawn, the early light making him seem but one more shadow in the citadel. Aragorn, with a ranger's eyes and patience was waiting for him.

"What is it?" he asked, concern creasing his face. "What are you hunting?"

"It's nothing," he told his friend, the lie plain on the fine boned features. "I'm not used to cities."

"Arwen is worried. So are Gimli and Pip. So am I." He gripped him by the shoulder. "You are not yourself, my friend. Tell me, maybe I can help."

"I feel caged. There's something missing here, not enough trees, or not enough stars." It was a close to the truth as he could get.

Aragorn looked carefully at him, worry in his blue eyes. "Do you need to go out to the forest for a while? You're not chained here, Legolas. I can't leave, but you and Gimli...,"

"Gimli's busy with the building, Aragorn. I can't drag him away right now." Legolas broke in. He drew his brows together and shook his head. "I just feel like I can't breathe, like there's something on my chest." He held up a hand to forestall Aragorn's question. "I'll be fine, maybe I'll take Arod out for a ride later, feel the grass under my feet again. Maybe it's just that there are so many people here."

"Brother mine, promise me you'll eat and rest before you do. Arwen will not forgive me if you fade away in my care." Aragorn told him, covering the love in his statement with a jest.

"She doesn't need to fuss, Aragorn. I'm not a child!" Legolas retorted, suddenly frustrated with having to explain himself.

"Then stop acting like one," Gimli said, coming upon them. "Worrying everyone. That's just like you."

"What are you doing up? It's not yet noon." The elf said, irrationally.

"I've been looking for you. While you may not care if Aragorn is left to the mercies of an angry wife, I refuse to be the one to tell your father you've wasted away. Now you'll take yourself to the kitchen and get something to eat."

Legolas lowered his brows, angry words on his lips, when he saw the determined look in the dwarf's eye. Some fights he was never going to win. "Fine!" he snapped. "But you can't force me to nap like a wean in the creche!" he said as he stormed away. Aragorn, with an apologetic glance at the dwarf followed his friend down the hall, matching his long stride.

"Ah, lad," Gimli whispered to himself. "He'll be back."

xxXxx

The party rode across the plains, the brilliant banners snapping in the wind. Eomer felt Firefoot almost dancing beneath him. The big horse was affected by his rider's mood, and it was not just joy at Eowyn's marriage that filled the man today. Merry's little horse was pushing to keep up with the big beast. From the crowd at the gates of Minas Tirith a lone horse detached itself and sped out to greet them. Eomer's smile widened as he recognized the gait, the rider pushing the horse to greater effort.

Legolas beamed as he turned Arod to meet and join the King's entourage. He pulled in beside Eomer, delight written across the tired features of his face. His heart sang as he beamed at the king, saluted his sister, nodded his greetings to Merry and the others.

"Why aren't you at the citadel?" Eomer called over the thunder of hooves.

"You're taking too long!" the elf yelled back. "Merry's dinner will be cold!" The hobbit smiled up at him from underneath his helm. The elf winked back, to Eowyn's surprise.

"Dignified entrance, Legolas!" Eomer replied, laughing. "Part of being a King."

They rode through the gates, saluting the cheering crowds, and made their way sedately through the circles of the White City, tack jangling and armour glinting in the sun. Eowyn blushed as the cry went up, "The White Lady! The White Lady is come!" and girls threw flowers in their path. She smiled and waved, overwhelmed by the welcome of the city. Merry's horse shied for a moment at the noise and confusion, and Legolas leaned forward to lay a hand on the animal's neck, settling it down. The movement caused another outcry from the crowd.

"Meriadoc! Meriadoc of the Shire! Esquire of Rohan!" Strong voices started singing, a joyful anthem, and Eomer fell back a bit, allowing Merry to ride beside Eowyn. The hobbit looked back at him, wonderingly.

"Go on, they want you!" Eomer said, checking Firefoot. He strained to hear the words sung by the crowd...

_Yet when the battle seemed most dark_

_A beacon of hope came from the Mark_

_The White Lady rode, fair Rohan's Pride_

_With brave Meriadoc at her side..._

"You know," Eomer said in an aside to Legolas, "I could have sworn _we_ were at that battle."

"Yes, but we were expected." Legolas told him sagely. "One doesn't get heroes like them every day."

In the shadow of the White Tree they stopped before the assembled dignitaries and accepted the salute of the guard. Eomer slid from his horse and embraced Aragorn, took Arwen's hand and gallantly kissed it. Then he bowed deeply to Frodo and Sam, who coloured slightly, although they were becoming used to the courtesy. He turned to assist his sister from her mount. She curtsied deeply to the King and Queen and turned a dazzling smile to Faramir, who stood behind his Lord, the silver on his livery paling in the light of the joy on his face.

Aragorn gave them a tight grin, and then turned to the crowds, his face calm and dignified. "Eomer King, my Brother of Rohan! You are most welcome in Gondor!" he said loudly, as the people quietened. "Your turn," he whispered from the side of his mouth. Eomer smiled, confident now, having been coached by Eowyn in the proper gestures.

"King Aragorn, Rohan is honoured to be here!" he called, bowing again.

"Now, you two," Aragorn said quietly, reaching behind him for Faramir's hand as Eomer reached for his sister.

"And Gondor is honoured that Eowyn, the White Lady, has accepted Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, Steward to the King, to be her husband!" He pulled Faramir forward as Eomer gave Eowyn a nudge and placed her hand in Faramir's. The he held them up. The crowd went wild. After more bowing and waving to the enthusiastic crowed, Aragorn led his distinguished guests inside, leaving the commons to celebrate as they would.

Inside the citadel, the formalities were dropped and a mad rush ensued as friends embraced. Gimli, showing none of the reserve of the others, rushed up to Eowyn and gladly took her hands in his and kissed them. "How wonderful to see you, my Lady!"

"And you, Gimli!" she replied, laughing, reaching down to embrace the dwarf. "I worried for a moment when I noticed your elf was riding by himself."

"Only because he's been dancing about like a flea all morning! We had to let him run loose before he went mad." He nodded over at the elf who stood behind Eomer, grinning wildly. "It's good to see you, lass." He laughed as he shook her hands gently.

Eowyn smiled at the elf, who bowed. "My Lady," he said quietly.

Eowyn's attention was caught by Pippin who was hugging Merry fiercely, nearly knocking him into her.

"Gentlemen, I think that's enough," Aragorn said, clasping both hobbits on the shoulder. They grinned up at him. "It's only been a few weeks, after all."

"Come along, my friends, let us check on the meal, while our guests freshen up," Legolas told the hobbits. He led them away, allowing them to have their reunion in private, more content than the hobbits had seen him in days.

xxXxx

"Why do you always do that?" Gimli asked him as they met up later in their room to clean up before dinner.

"Do what?" Legolas asked in return, stretching his long legs out on the bed they shared.

"Eowyn. You never try to make conversation, you just run off and hide. It's not like you to be shy."

"It's nothing to do with you, Gimli. She likes _you_."

The dwarf finished combing out his beard and began plaiting it. "What are you talking about? Of course she likes you. Everyone likes you."

Legolas smiled at his companion. "Just because you do, you assume everyone else feels the same way. I make her uncomfortable."

"You're being ridiculous. She likes elves, look at her with the Queen. Thick as hobbits. She even danced with Elrond at Aragorn's wedding."

"Pay attention. She likes elves. She likes dwarves. She likes hobbits. Eru help her, she even likes you! She is uncomfortable around me, Legolas." He patted his chest for emphasis.

Gimli turned and raised the brush as if it were his throwing axe. "If you've offered her any insult, you pointy eared..."

Legolas raised his hands in mock defense. "Put that down before you hurt yourself! I've done nothing!"

"Than what are you prattling about!"

"Gimli," the elf said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, and looking at his friend with serious eyes. "If I told you, then I would be betraying secrets that are not mine. Can you understand that? I wish I could tell you, because of myself, I can't see a way out of it."

"Here's an idea," the dwarf replied. "Try saying more than good day to her once in a while. Whatever you've done to that poor lass, you need to make it up to her."

"It's not that easy," Legolas began, but Gimli cut him off.

"Try. Elves may take centuries to make up a quarrel, the rest of us don't have that kind of time." He finished his hair and turned to the elf. "Now, let's get down to dinner."

_How can I make up for a offense I can't admit I've given?_ Legolas thought, as he followed the dwarf out of their room. _I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and overheard a conversation she wishes she'd never had. She may forgive Aragorn for it listening to those hasty words, but she'll never forgive me for witnessing her shame._

Dinner found Legolas seated across from Gimli and next to Eomer. Frodo and Sam joined their end of the table, as Merry and Pip served their lords, Merry's curly head popping between Eomer and the elf's shoulders to pour wine or serve some savoury dish. He grinned far more than any Esquire at table had a right to, Gimli told him.

Legolas said little, but smiled much, and Gimli was relieved to see the elf eat with a hearty appetite for the first time in weeks. In fact, the elf seem surprised when his meal was finished, and Merry brought him cream filled pastries.

"Much better than lembas," Gimli said, helping himself to one. He winked at Sam.

"Nothing is better than lembas" the elf told him, raising an eyebrow. Sam and Frodo both groaned at him.

"What?" he asked.

"No offense intended, Legolas, but if I never see another piece of lembas, it it'll be too soon." Sam said, with a wry grin.

"Although we are grateful it kept us alive. But hobbits don't live by lembas alone." Frodo said, with a hint of a smile.

"No, we had the bog water as well," Sam pointed out.

Merry chuckled encouragingly, as it was the first joke about their adventures the pair had shared. Eomer and Legolas laughed softly as well, and Gimli nodded at them in approval.

Legolas watched as Eomer bit into the creamy pasty, a bit of it sticking to his beard, and had the almost uncontrollable urge to wipe it away. Suddenly, the joy he'd felt all day dissolved into something wretched, as he realized what had been wrong with him the past weeks. He forced himself to sip at his wine, keeping his face stoic. He picked at the pastry on his plate, finally waving at Merry to take it away.

Gimli, who had been relaxing, stiffened as he saw the light die in his friend's eyes. Looking around, he quickly saw that no one else had noticed. Legolas managed to keep up the pretence until the dinner was over and they rose from table. Then he hurried from the room, the dwarf quickly following.

"Legolas, lad," Gimli said, his voice full of empathy. "Slow down! I cannot keep up with you!"

"I need to be alone, Gimli!" he replied, still striding down the hall. "We'll talk later!"

"No one knows, lad," Gimli told him gently. "You hid it very well."

The elf stopped in his tracks. "How long have you known, then?" he asked, acid in his voice.

"Long enough." The dwarf turned as they heard the voices in the hall. "Go, I'll give you as much time as I can, lad. But he'll be wanting to talk to you tonight."

Legolas gripped the dwarf's shoulder and sprinted down the rest of the hall, slipping out the open window.

Eomer was looking for the elf. The hobbits all shrugged their shoulders at him, and clustered together by the fire, a pot of tea to hand, and caught up with each others news. Merry was delighted to see some of the old Frodo back, as he sat in the huge armchair, and was fussed at by Sam. Pip was glad to see some of the sorrow at Theoden's death lifted from his friend.

Aragorn and Faramir were in deep discussion of the ranger's reports that had come that day, and they hadn't seen the elf. Arwen and Eowyn discussed wedding plans, trying to come up with some compromise between the customs of Gondor and Rohan. Legolas had barely said a word to either that day, they discovered, and went back to the difficult task of blending cultures.

Gimli was outside, smoking a quiet pipe and looking with pleasure at the scaffolding that marked the new walls going up. Too soon for his peace of mind, Eomer came looking for his friend. He sighed quietly to himself, as he turned to face the man.

"He's off doing an elf thing," he answered Eomer vaguely. "Something about the stars or the moon or some such frippery." He noticed how the man's face fell.

"I thought that you'd know for sure where he was," he said softly. "He told me you were his best friend."

"That's the truth," Gimli said, with a shrug. "It's a little deeper than that, though," he said, with a hint of steel in his voice. "I'll defend the lad to the death, you understand, look after him, take care of him. We're bound together, you see, and not just because of his father, he finished, with a menacing grin.

"Oh," Eomer said, not knowing how to answer that, trying to follow the implications of it. Gimli took another pull at his pipe and relented.

"He considers you a close friend, too," the dwarf said. "So I think you'll find him eventually."

Eomer found the elf on the promontory of the city. He'd taken to perching up there, during his dark days, looking with sad eyes out across the plains, out to Ithilien, the river, the shadow of the mountain in the distance.

"May I join you?" he asked, standing a respectful distance away. The blackened earth of the plains still showed the scars of the battle, even now he fancied he could smell the death, the awful pyres that had burned horse and orc and man alike.

The elf turned somber eyes to the man. "Of course. But I believe we should step away from the ledge. Were anything to happen to you, I have no doubt that your sister would hold me responsible. And she is quick with a blade, Eomer King."

Eomer chuckled at that, and was answered by a fleeting smile. The elf unfolded himself and they walked to one of the stone benches set into recesses along the walk. They sat together, and Legolas looked closely at the man. "I meant no disrespect to the Lady Eowyn," he said, carefully.

"You have given none, Legolas" Eomer said. "She is fast. And hot tempered."

"A very passionate lady indeed," Legolas said, almost absently. Then he swung his head around to look the man in the face. "I am sorry, I meant.."

"Not at all." Eomer grinned at him. "She's eager to be married."

The elf nodded. "Faramir is a lucky man."

"It still bothers me, this suddenness, though," Eomer said, looking back out across the plains. "I worry sometimes that she's rushing things because of all this." He waved out towards the east, where the dread threat had been so very terrible, not so very long ago. "Aragorn is very pleased about it though."

"Yes, he is," Legolas replied, with a strange nuance in his voice. "But it is well that we have joy now, in the aftermath of all this desolation. Your sister will be very happy in her new life, although you will be loathe to lose her."

"Legolas, may I ask you something personal?" Eomer said, watching his reaction.

"Of course." the elf replied.

"You speak so formally sometimes. Yet the Lady Arwen does not, so I assume it is not a cultural conditioning. And I admit, when I have heard you jesting with Gimli and the hobbits, and even with me, your speech patterns are much more relaxed. Why?"

Legolas laughed, and Eomer released breath he didn't realize he was holding. It was a merry sound, and it warmed him.

"What you call formal, I would call careful. This is not my first language, after all." He laughed again, at himself. "You may call it foolish pride, but I am the son of a King. I would not wish to make a mistake in company." He grinned at the man, suddenly making him look very young indeed. "When I am alone, I think in Sindarin, and sometimes it takes a moment to switch back to the cadence of Westron.

"I'm not company, Legolas. I promise I won't laugh," Eomer told him, with an answering grin. "The little bit of Sindarin I've heard is very beautiful. Would you say something in it for me? I won't understand it, but I would like to hear the it again." He gave no hint of the eagerness, no, the longing he had to hear those sounds that had been such a comfort to him that night in the stable.

"What will I say?" Legolas asked, as he looked into the deep hazel eyes. He slipped into his native tongue. "Eomer, I will say that to see you smile takes my breath. That to watch you laugh is better than summer rain on thirsty green leaves. I would gladly take all your pain upon myself to spare you. I would tell you that I have been lost these days while you have been away from me, that I had not known what was in my heart until I saw you ride up and greet with me joy and now it will not be silenced. I would tell you that you bring sunlight to my life, that I would never be away from you again, but also that I know that I must keep these truths to myself, lest you shut me out." He stopped and looked away. "You will always be Mir to me, beloved and cherished."

"That was beautiful," Eomer said, softly. "What did it mean?"

"It doesn't translate well, but that I am happy you count me among your friends." The elf looked bleakly over the desolate plains once again, and something in the shift of his shoulders told Eomer he was unhappy. Unhesitatingly he wrapped an arm around the elf and pulled him into a rough hug. Legolas froze for a second, wondering if somehow Eomer had understood everything he'd said.

"I'm sorry, Legolas," the big man said, continuing the embrace. "You must miss being with other elves, and it was unkind of me to ask for something that would remind you of home. It's been hardest on you, I think sometimes, being so young and so far from your kin."

_Home_, Legolas thought. _This is home, right here, right now, with you shielding me from the world. You are mistaken, Mir, I'm not missing home, I'm terrified of being in exile again_. He allowed himself the comfort of leaning back into Eomer's embrace.

Eomer continued to hold the elf, who, to his joy, did not pull away, as he much feared he might. Between them was comfort, one friend to another. He was grateful to return some of the care and concern the elf had shown him over the past weeks. Neither wanted to break the embrace, and sat comfortably, neither realizing the true feelings of the other.


	7. Black Roses Red

**Black Roses Red**

_Can I ask you a question please_  
_Promise you won't laugh at me_  
_Honestly I'm standing here_  
_Afraid I'll be betrayed._  
_As twisted as it seems, I only fear love when it's in my dreams_  
_So let in the morning light and let the darkness fade away_

_\- Alana Grace_

"But what do I do, Gimli?" Legolas asked, pacing back and forth in their little room, his boot heels banging on the wooden floor. He hadn't slept at all, creeping in just before dawn to shake the dwarf awake and start pouring out his heart to him. Safe in the comfort of Gimli's unquestioning support, he gave in to the dizzying, terrifying flood of emotions coursing through him.

Gimli, seated comfortably on the bed, pulled at his pipe and exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving his friend. "You calm down, for one thing. What can you do?"

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know!" Legolas waved his hands around. "This wasn't supposed to happen!"

"Well, lad, that's about as much about as it as I know." Gimli told him placidly. He sipped at the ale in his hand while watching the elf with concern. Legolas would have to come to terms with his feelings for Eomer on his own, all the dwarf could do was guide his young friend and try to keep him from doing something too foolish while he was in this state of confusion. Love was a serious thing among the elves, something that would affect him completely, mentally and physically as well as emotionally.

"I really hate you right now," Legolas retorted. "Help me!"

"If it's happened, it's happened," Gimli told him. "There's not much to be done now." He finished his ale and watched as the elf continued his hectic pacing.

"He's my friend! I just wanted to help him, look after him," Legolas fretted. Somewhere along the way of his desire to lift the darkness from his friend, he'd lost himself.

"I mean, I never expected this to happen, I just wanted him to be happy," he continued. "He was so broken, with Eowyn so injured, and I couldn't stand to see him like that. Not him. I just wanted him to smile, Gimli, that's all. And then I started worrying about him, how he was, if he needed anything, and then, then,"

"And then you fell in love with the man," Gimli supplied, "and apparently lost your mind in the process."

"Ai!" Legolas exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. "I can't think what's best to do, Gimli! I should just leave him alone, not try to tell him about this, just let him have his life. That would be best for him." His eyes went wide. "I'm going to be you!"

"And what's wrong with that?" Gimli asked in a dangerous voice, his fists clenching.

"For you, nothing!" Legolas responded emphatically. "But this isn't like that at all. I mean, he's not even a elf, and you don't understand, there are these urges, and you have a pure and chaste love, honorable and noble and..."

"And you want him," Gimli interjected, calm again.

"And Valar above, I want him!" Legolas continued, then stopped and looked at his friend, raising an eyebrow. "Will you stop doing that!"

Gimli shrugged "You're young, it's only natural." He took another draw at his pipe. "Out of curiosity, lad, were you this incoherent when you were talking to him?"

"No, we mostly talked about his sister." Legolas started pacing again. "Gimli, Eowyn doesn't like me, I don't think she ever will, that alone will cause even more problems for him, this just gets worse and worse!"

"Mostly?" Gimli asked, trying to bring the frantic elf back to the point.

"And then he asked me to say something in Sindarin, and I was just so bewildered and stunned with how impossible this all is that I told him that I loved him but I couldn't tell him that I loved him because I loved him."

Gimli raised both eyebrows.

"Don't look at me like that. He was so kind, and caring, and it felt so good to just be with him, with his arm around me, and he didn't even know how I feel about him. What am I going to do?"

"I'm going to sit on you until you get yourself under control."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Legolas asked bitterly.

"No, lad, I'm puzzled. Which part of this has you so upset? Love happens where it happens. Granted, it's a little unusual for an elf to fall in love with a man, but it's not the end of the world. The person you should be talking to is Arwen. She'd be better able to advise you, having gone through this herself."

"Oh, no, it's bad enough that you know." Legolas protested. "And he's not just a man, he's a king, with all that entails. I just escaped from one king, and now.." He sat down beside the dwarf and shook his head. "I can't tell him. He can't ever know."

"He'll never hear it from me, Legolas. But you have to calm down. I understand you've all these new feelings and desires and such and you've obviously become unhinged. You're afraid of all the implications. But I never thought to see Thranduil's son carry on like a crazed fishwife!"

Legolas started as Gimli's words cut into him. Then he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "You, my friend, are absolutely right. I hate that." He smiled, shamefacedly. "Thank you."

"That's better, lad." Gimli said, patting him fondly on the thigh. "Now, let's start again. Why is this such a catastrophe? You're not planning on throwing yourself at his feet or something are you?"

"No," Legolas sighed. "I think I can control myself around him."

"Good, because if you start all that foolishness in front of him, he'll have you locked up as a lunatic. You don't have to rush into any declarations, in a language he knows anyhow, since you've already let that cat out of the bag. You don't have to do a thing."

"All these feelings, Gimli, it's like nothing I've ever known," the elf said quietly. "I don't know whether to run away and hide or kidnap him and run off with him."

"Bad idea," Gimli told him. "Kidnapping is always a bad idea. Make sure you run ideas like that by me before you do anything."

"It's never going to work. Maybe we should leave with the hobbits."

"What would you do if you were in your right mind?" Gimli asked.

Legolas shrugged. "I guess I would talk to him, spend time with him, sing..."

"Leave off the singing, lad," Gimli protested.

But Legolas was off in the land of possibilities now, his stare far away, a gentle smile on his face. "I'd wreath his head with flowers, write him poems and recite them as I braided his hair, bathe him in cool spring pools..."

"Stop!" Gimli commanded. "I don't want to know, really. Just go on as you have. Be his friend, he values you."

They sat in silence for a moment. Then Legolas tilted his head to look at the dwarf who had become his confidant, his companion.

"Gimli, if I ask you something, will you promise not to ask me why?" he said, his blue eyes intense with concern.

"Lad, I hope this resolves itself quickly," the dwarf sighed. "Yes, I promise not to ask why you ask me things, even though I know it's just to drive me mad."

"In Lothlorien, after Gandalf fell," he said softly, "you and Aragorn spoke to me about grief. Aragorn said that the important feelings, grief, love, desire, hatred, were all tangled together for men. That one would often lead to another. He said sometimes grief led to desire, to console someone, it was a way of feeling that life was still worth living. Do you remember that?"

"Aye, I do," Gimli said.

"Do you think that's a natural reaction for all men? Or just some?"

Gimli sighed. "Legolas, I've seen grief expressed in every way from folk having children to someone burying an axe in someone else's spine. Some men get drunk, some weep, some start revolutions. No one can be held to any one standard." He looked closely at the elf. "Ah," he said quietly.

Legolas shot him a panicked look. Gimli held up his hand. "I'm asking no questions. I suggest," he emphasized the word, "that you and Eomer continue on the way you have. If and when the time comes, you'll know. If it's not to be, well, it's not such a bad life," he said.

"I didn't mean it that way, Gimli," Legolas said, his voice full of contrition. "I honor you for your devotion, you know that."

"I do, lad, that's why your head is still on your shoulders. But if you forget yourself again, you'll feel the back of my hand, Prince or no," he said, with a menacing smile.

Legolas grinned wickedly. "Come, let's find some breakfast, my friend. Suddenly I'm very hungry."

"Yes, elf hysterics will do that to you." Gimli retorted. "I still can't believe it came as such a shock to you."

"I really wasn't expecting it."

"I'll forgive you this time," Gimli chuckled, "since you were in the middle of it and couldn't see the forest for the trees as it were. Speaking of which, we're going to the caves first."

Legolas smiled at him and nodded. "Since you are such a valued counselor and friend, I acquiesce to your request."

xxXxx

Eowyn found Eomer with Merry in his rooms. Merry, who was taking his role in the upcoming nuptials very seriously, was going over his duties with the King, who sat by the open window, the summer breeze cooling him.

Merry bowed low to her and she bent to embrace him.

"I thank you again, Lady, for the great honor you do me," he said politely. Then he grinned. "Are you sure you trust me?"

"With my life, Merry," she said, holding him for just a moment longer. "And I'm proud to have you stand as my younger kinsman instead of my brother," she told him with a teasing smile for Eomer.

"Good, then he can run the kingdom while I go back to the duties of Marshal." Eomer said, smiling back.

"Actually," Merry said, an unaccustomed look of seriousness on his face, "this is probably the best time to talk to you both about what's happening after the wedding."

"After?" Eowyn said, sitting down, while Merry automatically poured her wine and brought the cup to her.

"Yes, after. We, Sam, Pip and I, need to take Frodo home." His eyes were sad as he explained. "He needs the Shire. He's not himself, even yet. Aragorn thinks he never will be unless we take him back."

"Oh, Merry," Eowyn said, tears forming in her eyes. "I'll miss you so!"

"I'm sure we'll meet again, my Lady," he told her. "We'll be back someday, Pip and I. But Frodo needs us now."

She sprang out of her chair to embrace him again, and tears fell onto the curly head. "Somehow I just assumed we'd all be together now," she said.

"Don't worry, my Lady, there will always be letters and such. We'll send you all the news, and expect the same from you."

She stood up and wiped her tears, as Eomer took her place to embrace the hobbit. "You shall always have a place with us, Meriadoc."

"I'm counting on it," Merry said impishly, wiping at his own eyes.

"Now, Eowyn, I pray you've brought us good news, to help us through this sorrow." Eomer said, trying to cheer her.

"Yes, I think I have. I need to find a good saddler, quickly."

Both Merry and Eomer looked at her, puzzled.

"Arwen and I have decided that in place of the bridle, Faramir and I will be handfasted with a braided leather thong. Something decorative, but strong as well. Arwen suggested ribbon, but that just feels too delicate for me. Faramir has agreed, of course."

"You'll want to ask Gimli then," Merry said. "I think he has every craftsman in the city memorized."

"Would you run and get him, Merry?" Eowyn asked. "I'd like a chance to just sit and rest for a moment. Arwen seems to be making up for the simplicity of her wedding by making mine as ostentatious as possible."

"Elves," Merry sighed in agreement.

"Bring Legolas with you as well, if he's there," Eomer found himself asking. "I wanted to talk to him," he said, catching Eowyn's expression.

She waited until Merry had left before turning questioning blue eyes to her brother. "You spend a lot of time with the elf, Eomer," she said. "I didn't think you'd have that much in common."

Eomer looked back at her, puzzled. "He's become a very good friend, Eowyn. He's been very...kind," he told her.

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"He just seems to be there whenever I start to grieve or worry." Eomer explained. "He makes me laugh, takes me out of myself for a while. Yes, he's been kind."

"He follows you like a puppy, Eomer, it's no wonder he's always around!" she replied, taking a sip of her wine.

"He's young and far from home, Eowyn," he retorted. "I would think you'd be a little more understanding." He shrugged, turning back to the window. "I'm sorry, I don't want to quarrel. We like each other, that's all."

She gave him a tight smile. "I know that Gimli thinks the world of him," she began, "but Legolas barely says a word to me."

"I think you make him nervous, sister," Eomer grinned. "He's very glad that you've found happiness with Faramir, he told me so last night."

"He did?" she asked, her eyes darkening.

"Yes, he has great respect for your valor and bravery, he said. And he wishes you all joy with Faramir."

The commotion of Gimli's arrival with Merry broke off their conversation. Eowyn quickly explained her dilemma to the dwarf, who was delighted to be able to assist in such a personal aspect of the wedding. He named three craftsmen off the top of his head and offered to escort her to where they were working, so that she would be better able to judge the best of them.

Eowyn agreed and crossed to her brother, still standing by the window. She stretched up to kiss his cheek apologetically and whispered, "I'll visit with you later on," and then was out the door with the dwarf in tow.

Merry flopped down in the chair she'd vacated to give the rest of his message.

"Legolas will be along a little later," he told the king. "He sends his apologies, but he's been roped into teaching Faramir the proper Sindarin words for the ceremony."

"The what?" Eomer exploded. "What's wrong with Westron? We all speak it!"

"My Lady the Queen," Merry began.

"Who is turning this into a week long affair," Eomer interjected.

"Has decided that My Lord the King," Merry continued.

"Merry, just use everyone's name, this is ridiculous," Eomer commanded, sitting in the chair beside the hobbit. Merry gave him an impudent grin.

"Arwen has decided that it would be nice if Aragorn gave the traditional elvish blessing and Faramir and my Lady must give the proper response. It's only a short line, but Faramir is having a little trouble with the inflections."

Eomer dropped his head into his hands. "I wish Elrond had provided a proper wedding for his daughter, Merry. This, this..."

"Spectacle?" Merry offered.

"We left spectacle back three leagues ago, my friend," Eomer said. "This has become a full on festival. Singing maidens, caparisoned horses, archways built of flowers, elvish blessings," he paused. "I don't need to learn any Sindarin do I?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Not yet," Merry shrugged. "I hope I don't either, because all I've picked up from Legolas are a few choice curses."

Eomer laughed. "I shall miss you very much, Merry."

xxXxx

In the late afternoon, Legolas knocked politely at Eomer's door. Eomer dismissed Higa, who had been delivering reports from Edoras, and showed the elf to a chair, offering wine. Legolas accepted, and smiled, as he raised his cup to his host.

"I spoke with Gimli and the leather work has begun," he reported. "Eomer King, this shall be as no wedding ever celebrated before."

"You have no idea, my friend," Eomer chuckled. "We only got the sword situation worked out this morning."

"Swords?" Legolas asked, raising an eyebrow. "I had thought this was to be a peaceful occasion, not one requiring arms."

"You've been spending the afternoon thinking in Sindarin again, haven't you?" Eomer grinned.

"I have," Legolas told him, his summer sky eyes twinkling. "Faramir's inflections would have had him promising to provide for all and sundry, instead of my Lady Eowyn." He sipped at his wine. "Would you explain the swords to me?"

"Traditionally," Eomer began, and then snorted, "even though most of that seems to have been thrown out the window, traditionally a man gives his bride his ancestral sword, for her sons. It's a very simple part of the wedding. He says, "I give you this sword for our sons to have and use." Then she gives him another sword and says "Here is the blade with which you will protect our home."

"A nice custom," Legolas said.

"Oh, yes, but then it got complicated. Like everything else." Eomer pushed his hair back from his eyes. "In normal circumstances, Eowyn would have given Faramir her own sword. But it was destroyed when she defeated the Witch-King. Faramir's ancestral sword is also the sword of the Steward of Gondor, and a part of the regalia of his office, so that wouldn't be proper either." He sighed. "It took over two hours to decide that new swords were needed, and how they should be fashioned."

Legolas smiled sympathetically. Eomer continued. "Since Merry and Pip are standing in for the younger kinsmen at the wedding, who traditionally," and he grimaced again, "hold the swords during the ceremony, there had to be discussions on where Merry and Pip should stand and it became obvious that the swords would have to be light enough for hobbits to handle, and decorous enough for the occasion, and still functional. I thought the armorer would have a fit before they were done."

"It is a comfort that Arwen has no knowledge of dwarven wedding customs, or I am sure she would be adding them to honor Gimli." Legolas said mischievously.

"Don't tell her, please," Eomer begged and drained his goblet.

"Easily promised. No one knows any except Gimli and he is being uncharacteristically quiet on the subject." Legolas shrugged. "They would probably involve a lot of drinking," he said with a wink.

"Hmm, maybe we should talk to him after all," Eomer said, as they laughed together.

"You are feeling better today, Legolas?" Eomer asked after a moment. "Last night you seemed very, well, almost melancholy. I'm not used to seeing you like that, and I was worried about you."

Legolas stayed calm, although his heart skipped a beat. "Yes, much better today," he said, his eyes softening as he met the hazel gaze of the man. "I'm sorry to have worried you."

Eomer reached across and gripped the elf by the wrist. "No apologies. You're my friend, and I hope you know you can depend on me as I've come to depend on you, in time of sorrow or trouble." He smiled sheepishly. "Your laughter, well, forgive me if it's not said between elves, but your laughter can lift the darkness."

"To another elf we would say 'the stars themselves rejoice'." Legolas told him, his voice soft.

"That's it exactly," Eomer said. "The stars themselves rejoice. I like that." He patted the elf's wrist one more time and sat back in his chair. "I'm always here if you need me, Legolas," he said.


	8. Yours To Hold

**Yours To Hold**

_I'm stretching but you're just out of reach  
You should know  
I'm ready when you're ready for me  
And I'm waiting for the right time  
For the day I catch your eye  
To let you know  
That I'm yours to hold _

_\- Skillet_

"It's just down here, sire," Merry said, as he led Eomer down the hall that led to the small room Gimli and Legolas still shared. Eomer had requested his esquire to direct him as he'd not been there before, and had good reason to seek his friends out this day. As they reached the door, the sound of muffled commotion came through the wood, startling both man and hobbit.

"I cannot get it out, blast you!" Gimli was growling. "Why did you have to do this to yourself?"

"Please, Gimli, I can't reach it," Legolas was insisting desperately. "You've got to keep trying!"

"It would be easier to cut," Gimli began in a serious voice.

"No!" Legolas all but wailed, cutting him off, as Merry, grinning, banged on the door. There was a flurry of muted noise and muttering as Gimli called out "Who is it?"

"Me," Merry said, grinning, as he opened the door. "And Eomer King."

Eomer took in the small room, the worn furnishings, the elf sitting demurely on the single chair with a towel draping his head, the dwarf behind him, looking grim and brandishing a brush.

"You've just made it worse, lad," Gimli said sadly, shaking his head. "That's going to stick as well."

The elf bowed his head, as Merry asked, in a concerned voice but with a twinkle in his eye, "What happened, Legolas?"

"He doesn't want to talk about it." Gimli snapped at him.

"It's not serious, is it?" Merry continued, still in that fatuous tone. "Should I go for Aragorn?" He moved briskly around the chair to stand by the dwarf.

"Meriadoc," the elf growled, in a warning tone.

"Are you injured, Legolas?" Eomer asked, stepping forward. Legolas held up a hand.

"Don't. I'm not injured." he said, resignation in his voice.

"Yet," Merry put in.

"I will take this brush to your backside, young hobbit." Giimli threatened, shaking it at him. "Esquire or no."

"What's going on?" Eomer asked, completely confused now. "Legolas, what's wrong?"

Legolas waved his hand in a tragic sort of way. "It can't be any worse, Gimli. Maybe they've some experience with this."

"It's not falling out, is it?" Merry asked, in mock horror, his eyes as wide as they could go.

"Meriadoc Brandybuck, if one word of this leaves this room, I will inform the kitchens that you have come down with a serious hobbit disorder that requires a diet of nothing but barley bread and water." Legolas told him, as he pulled the towel from his head.

"See, there, now the fabric is stuck as well," Gimli said, frowning, as he gently pulled the material away from the burdock stickers matted into the back of the elf's hair.

Merry whistled in disbelief. He counted at least seven of the burrs matted in and around the elf's braid. "That's terrible, Legolas," he said with sympathy, although his eyes still twinkled.

Gimli had managed to undo the bottom of the braid, but his attempts at brushing had only made things worse. Eomer started to smile, but the fierce look Gimli shot him shut him up instantly.

Merry had moved closer and was inspecting the damage. "Nasty things, burrs," he muttered under his breath. "There was a little girl in the shire who made herself a crown of them once, and wore it proudly all day. Her mam had to shave her head. Bald." Legolas shuddered.

"Stop teasing him, Merry, and tell us how to get them out!" Gimli snarled.

"Oil," Eomer said, still confused. They all looked at him. "That's what we use on the horses, although it would be easier to just cut that mess out. It's going to take hours to clean that up."

"Oil!" Legolas repeated, hope filling his eyes. "Merry, run down to the kitchens and get us some oil. Hurry!"

"Sire?" Merry asked, looking pointedly at Eomer.

"Now, boy!" Eomer said, still not understanding but recognizing the urgency and giving him a half push out the door. "And you're not to dawdle or gossip along the way!"

Merry darted out the door, closing it behind him, and Eomer looked at the other two. Legolas was looking at him with wonder and admiration and Gimli was shaking his head, as he put down the brush.

"The brush won't work, Gimli," Eomer said, stepping behind the elf to have a closer look at the mess himself. "You'll need a wide comb, and a lot of patience. Look, the brush causes breakage," there was a whimper from the elf, and Gimli shook his head at the man, a silent signal to change the subject. "Do I want to know how this happened?"

"No," the elf and dwarf chorused together, and Gimli lay a sympathetic hand on the elf's shoulder. "It was an accident, Eomer, lad. Let's leave it at that."

Eomer shrugged and moved to sit on the bed. "You'll want to change into some old clothing as well, those little hooks get into everything. I should have had Merry bring wine as well."

"What brings you by, Eomer," Gimli asked him, as Legolas opened the press and pulled out his comb.

"I was looking for you in the dining hall, Eowyn is driving me to distraction with the wedding preparations," he grinned. "She wants to make sure that I look presentable, that I remember to wear the crown, that I know how to behave in this 'special circumstance' as she's calling it. Between her and my Lady the Queen it's getting worse every day! I'm only grateful it's Aragorn who has to officiate, not me."

"Yes, Legolas has promised to sing an elven wedding hymn," Gimli said.

"That's not certain, yet," Legolas said, with a sidelong glance at his friend. "Arwen has a much better voice, and I feel Eowyn would prefer her, as a close friend, than me."

"I didn't know you sang, Legolas," Eomer said, surprised. Gimli grunted.

"All elves sing, lad. It's getting them to be quiet that's the trouble."

Legolas shrugged. "And all dwarves snore. There must be compromise somewhere, Gimli."

"Aye, lad, I guess we rub along as best we can," Gimli told him with a smile.

Merry pelted back into the room, a jug of cooking oil in his hands and with Pippin at his heels. Pip skidded to a stop on the rug and nearly slipped, as he registered the damage done to the elf's hair.

"Oh, Legolas, I'm so sorry," he said, with absolute sincerity. Eomer stared at him.

"Thank you, Pip," the elf replied mournfully. "But Eomer has a remedy, so I am hopeful."

"I thought I said no one else is to be here," Eomer said sternly to Merry, who was putting the jar of oil on the press.

"Not his fault, Eomer King," Pip smiled, with a curt little bow. "I was on my way here already, my Lord Faramir and the King request Gimli's presence at once, there's been some kind of accident on the west wall."

Gimli sprang for the door, then stopped and looked back at the elf. "Go," Legolas told him, "they need you! I can wait."

"I'll do it," Eomer found himself volunteering. "Since I was coming here to hide from my sister anyway." He caught Gimli's eye. "A word in private before you go, Master Dwarf?" he asked.

Pippin was patting Legolas' shoulder, in a comforting sort of way, which Legolas seemed to appreciate, so the dwarf nodded and pulled Eomer back through the open door into the hall.

"Why all the fuss over his hair?" Eomer asked. "I'm not being judgmental, I just don't understand."

Gimli glanced back at the door, and pulled the man down to his level. "Elves prize their hair. It shows that they are strong, powerful, attractive. To have it cut is to shame him." He jerked his head to the door, indicating the elf inside. "Do your best for him, lad. He trusts you, or he'd not let you touch it."

"Thank you," Eomer said, as Gimli called for Pippin and set of at a quick pace.

Eomer went back into the room. "Meriadoc," he said, "I have some very specific instructions for you." His eyes twinkled and Merry smiled back at him. "You will go to my rooms and bring back the worst clothes you can find. Also a couple of drying cloths, old ones. Tell Higa he is to handle anything that may need my immediate attention and I will not be available to anyone. Then go and find us some decent wine. In about three hours, I'll want you to bring up a meal for us." Merry nodded and smiled at Legolas. "Pay attention, Merry, this is the most important part. If your Lady, my sister, asks you where I am, you are to tell her that I have given you strict orders that I am not to be disturbed for any reason. Any reason! Is that clear?"

"She won't like it, sire," Merry pointed out.

"Then perhaps this would be a good afternoon for you to spend time with Frodo and Sam." He tapped the side of his nose. "Don't let her find you, either."

Merry sped off again, grinning like a mad thing. Eomer sighed and closed the door behind him, facing Legolas. The elf was hefting the jar of oil, eager to begin.

"Not yet, Legolas. I'm not ruining good clothes. You should get into something else as well."

"Thank you, Eomer King," Legolas said, with real gratitude in his voice, as he moved things off the press to open it again.

"I'm glad to help," he replied, holding the oil while the other things were piled on the neatly made bed. "You could really use a table in here."

"Gimli hasn't managed to steal one yet," the elf told him, pulling out a soft and worn tunic. "But he did a good job with the mattress."

"You weren't joking about your quarters." Eomer said, looking about him again. "You could move in with me, you know. I've lots of space."

"No, thank you, Eomer," Legolas said seriously. "This really does suit us well. And if I came I'd have to bring the dwarf. We go together, you understand." Then he smiled, a crooked grin, full of mischief. "And you would never sleep again, between his snoring and my singing."

Eomer laughed. "I'd like to hear you some time."

"Well, when Gimli gets back, perhaps we can have him take a nap..." the elf began, undoing the clasps on his tunic.

Eomer laughed again, and reached out to grab the tunic by the shoulders. "Here, let me help, you don't want this to get stuck as well." Legolas froze for a second, then forced himself to calm as he raised his arms and the man eased it over his head. Eomer tossed it into the corner, and turned to get the old one. Legolas watched him with an unreadable expression in his sky blue eyes, and when Eomer turned to face him, he was struck by how vulnerable the elf looked. He eased the old tunic over him and reached out to pat him on the shoulder.

"Your hair will be fine, Legolas, I promise," he said, his voice full of compassion. Legolas sighed, glad that the man had mistaken his feelings. His own fingers itched to tug Eomer's tunic off.

"Thank you for understanding," the elf told him, gratitude shining from his eyes. "I know it would seem silly to most men. But a warrior's hair, well," he shrugged, "it's like a dwarf's beard, but please don't tell Gimli I said that."

"I promise I shall treat you as gently as if you were Eowyn herself." Eomer replied. "Will you really sing at the wedding celebrations?"

"If the Lady herself wishes, I shall," Legolas said, his eyes taking on a far away look. "But I do believe it would be better were Arwen to do it at the ceremony itself."

"The ceremony is getting more and more complicated every day. There are only six days left, and every time I turn around, something new is going to happen."

"It is always hard when you try to merge cultures." Legolas said, nodding. "Tiny things take on great import when the really important things tend to get lost in the confusion."

"You and Gimli seem to have worked things out between you." Eomer said, remembering the dwarf's words the other night.

"Ah, but we are a special case, he and I. There are no friendships like ours between others of our kinds."

"Why not?" Eomer asked.

Legolas shrugged. "In the past, it has been frowned upon. Perhaps because dwarf and elf spend more time complaining about each other than talking to each other. Gimli and I have been forced to look past the history of our people and deal with each other with honesty and respect. And we found that we liked each other, to our horror." He smiled at Eomer. "It was quite the shock, believe me."

Merry banged once on the door and called softly for Legolas to open it. He entered, his arms full of the requested items, and after depositing them, made a quick bow and left them to themselves.

"I hope Eowyn doesn't find him too quickly," Eomer said, setting the wine on the press and pulling off his good tunic.

"I'll be surprised if she finds him at all," Legolas told him, glancing sideways at the man's naked torso. "Hobbits are very good at not being seen."

Eomer pulled on the old tunic and changed his trousers, not noticing the elf's faint blush. He poured wine for them, gave the goblet to the elf and toasted him with the other. "To a job well done".

Legolas sat, nervous, as Eomer put one of the old drying cloths around the elf's shoulders and began to soak the oil into the matted hair. Gently he massaged it into the worst of the mats and starting at the bottom of the mess, with very gentle strokes, began to work out the burrs. Legolas shivered once, then forced himself back under rigid control.

"Eomer?" Legolas asked. "Are you more comfortable now being king?" He sighed at how stupid that sounded and tried again, "Forgive me, I meant to ask if you are more comfortable with Eowyn leaving the Mark."

"I think so," Eomer said quietly. "She has been a tremendous help these past weeks. Things have been organized and plans set in motion. The people are terribly sad to see her go, but there is also joy that she has found a man worthy of her."

"Who will run your household, now that she is gone?" Legolas asked.

Eomer chuckled. "Eowyn has designated my old nurse, Malwyn, as the official chatelaine of Meduseld."

"Until you marry?"

Eomer stopped, mid stroke. "Not you too, Legolas! That's all I've heard since my sister accepted Faramir! No," he said, a hardness creeping into his voice, "I'll choose my own consort."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be impolite," Legolas said, as Eomer went back to disentangling the burrs. "It must be all the wedding excitement in the air. Betrothals seem to be contagious."

"Forgive me, I'm not angry with you. It's just that I think I've heard about every high born lady in two lands in the past month. Their beauty, their capability, their suitability. That's not what I'm looking for."

"What are you looking for?" the elf asked.

"Kindness." Eomer answered immediately, without thinking. "Laughter. Acceptance."

"All excellent qualities. I hope you find them, my friend," the elf said, as part of him exulted in the feel of the man's hands in his hair.

"What about you, Legolas? Is there an elf maiden as fair as our Queen waiting for you back in the Mirkwood?"

"Alas, no," Legolas said, in a self-deprecatory tone. "I fear it shall be the dwarf and I for the rest of our days."

"I find that hard to believe," Eomer responded. "You're young, handsome, obviously possessed of superior qualities and abilities."

"And the son of a very opinionated father." Legolas added quietly. "No, there is no one in Mirkwood that I could marry."

"That's terrible!" Eomer said, horrified. "What of the other elven lands? Surely there must be someone..."

"You do not understand my dilemma, Eomer," Legolas said gently. "Where the dwarf goes, I go. It would not be...appropriate."

"That's why you don't want to go back." Eomer said, understanding dawning on him.

"Partly," Legolas answered truthfully. "I do want to travel, to see everything I can, to help Aragorn here, to visit Rohan with you, even the caves," he sighed. "In some ways it's easier here since the folk do not have set ideas about dwarves and elves."

The continued in silence for a while, Eomer thinking hard as he gently undid the mess the elf and dwarf had made. An idea had begun to form in his mind, and he had no way of confirming it without possibly insulting a good friend. He knew next to nothing about elven customs. He thought about the night of Theoden's funeral, the naturalness of the kiss that Legolas had given him.

"If you didn't have Gimli..." Eomer began, cautiously.

"Which I do, so this is moot," the elf replied.

"Humour me," Eomer said, "I'm trying to learn about your culture. If you didn't have Gimli, would you be able to marry in the elven lands?"

Legolas shrugged. "Without my father's approval, it would be difficult."

"And he would disapprove of everyone?" Eomer asked, aghast.

"I don't think there's anyone he'd think was good enough." Legolas admitted.

"And you need that approval to marry?"

"What you don't understand is that no other elf would consider me without it. Personally, I would choose whoever I fell in love with and that would be that. But parental approval is very important in our culture. Ask Aragorn about what he went through with Arwen."

"That's a little personal, isn't it?" asked the man.

"I'm trying to educate you," Legolas grinned, even though he knew Eomer couldn't see it. "You did ask."

"Yet you choose to live outside that culture." Eomer observed, feeling his way around the subject delicately.

"For various reasons, yes."

"One of which is that you are drawn to men," Eomer said very softly.

"Well, not all of them," Legolas answered evenly.

"And your father wants grandchildren."

"My father wants control," Legolas corrected him. "I can't give him that. I'll love whomever I will, and there's nothing he can do about that."

"But the succession must be protected," Eomer began.

"The succession starts and stops with Thranduil." Legolas cut him off. "You're still thinking in terms of men, who pass on the throne. My father will never abdicate. I will never be king. Now that the evil one is destroyed," and he nodded easterly, "I don't think there's anything that _can_ kill him. And his will to live is very strong.

Eomer looked across the small room to the single bed, thought of the elf's devotion to the dwarf, which was obviously returned. And he could see no way of asking what he was suddenly burning to know.


	9. Impossible

**Impossible**

_I remember years ago  
Someone told me I should take  
Caution when it comes to love  
I did, I did_

_And you were strong and I was not_  
_My illusion, my mistake_  
_I was careless, I forgot_  
_I did_

_~ Shontelle_

Legolas was in ecstasy. Had Gimli been there to witness it, he would have shaken his head. Legolas leaned back in the chair, long legs stretched and feet propped up on the chest, as Eomer, with unconscious tenderness, worked the burrs from his hair. The elf's eyes were half-lidded and he smiled widely. Late afternoon sun streaked in through the window, casting long shadows, while the breeze carried a hint of the scent of the summer flowers. They had settled into a companionable silence for the past half hour, Eomer pondering things that hadn't occurred to him the day before and the elf drifting in paradise.

Eomer was absently staring across the room at the bed, that seemed to loom larger and larger in his imagination, its dark coverlet tucked in tightly, the pillows white and bright, becoming almost sinister. He had known the elf and dwarf shared it, but it had never sent uncomfortable tendrils of heat down into his belly before. He pushed the feeling away, forcing himself to pay attention to the elf's hair instead. Wet with oil, it still gleamed in the late sun and he removed another piece of burr, placing it in the wash basin with the others. Then his eyes strayed to the bed once again.

Given what he knew of the relationship between them, Eomer had resolved that they shared this part of their life as well. He had decided against asking, fearing Legolas would either tell him it was none of his business, which, he admitted to himself, it wasn't, or that he would openly and honestly give him details he wasn't sure he wanted to hear. He didn't know which answer would bother him more.

He thought once again of the evening in the stable. The elf had accepted him, held him, helped him. Bits of the Sindarin he'd crooned still stuck in Eomer's head, although the language was unfamiliar, the feelings behind it were not. Compassion, comfort, it had been exactly what he'd needed at the time. Had it not been for that kiss, that kiss that prickled in the back of his mind like the restless feeling before a thunderstorm, he could have dismissed this disconcerting feeling completely from his thoughts. He knew Legolas was kind and giving and for whatever reason, Eomer wasn't sure, but was grateful none the less, had chosen him as a friend. The elf would give completely to help a friend, he knew enough of him now to realize that. But there was the dwarf to consider.

Of course the elf was left to his own devices, with Gimli being so busy with rebuilding, Eomer reasoned. His eyes narrowed as they moved from that damnable bed to the pile of weapons carefully stacked in the corner of the room. How would the dwarf react if he knew that Eomer was feeling this strange new attraction to his partner? Legolas was young, perhaps he'd taken up with Gimli too early and was regretting that decision. Perhaps they had an open relationship, taking other lovers as the fancy took them. The thought of Legolas blithely going from man to man like a bee in a garden sent a hot flare of anger through him. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

_Perhaps I should stop imagining things,_ Eomer thought. _He was only trying to help. He said as much._

Eomer concentrated on the mats in front of him. Whatever might have been offered in that night of torment, the moment had passed. Instead, he'd taken Legolas' advice, had a hot bath, a cup of wine with the elf, who had been as caring and serene as ever, and gone to sleep, exhaustion taking him almost at once. Since then, he'd heard no word of scandal, no hint of gossip that the elf had a lover. Not even the dwarf.

Merry's discreet knock brought them both from their reverie. Legolas stretched like a contented cat while Eomer, startled, put down the comb and shook out his arms. Merry entered, bearing a tray with covered dishes and a pot of hot coffee. The elf smiled his thanks, and sniffed the coffee appreciatively.

"You looked like you were falling asleep, Legolas," Merry joked, his curly head nodding at him. "I never thought to see you so calm in such a catastrophe."

"I have complete faith in my deliverer," the elf said, winking as he took the tray from the hobbit. "It is easy to see why Eomer controls his horses so well, he has such gentleness in his hands and it inspires trust in them."

Merry laughed, and Eomer looked embarrassed at the praise.

"Arod told you that?" Merry asked, chuckling, making room for the dishes on the press.

"Firefoot as well," the elf shrugged. "His reputation among the horses is quite remarkable."

"You've made tremendous progress," Merry complimented Eomer, inspecting his work. "Much better than Gimli's manhandling, at any rate."

"Gimli does his best," Legolas remarked stoically, causing Eomer to glance at him, looking for any change in the elf's countenance. There was none, only satisfaction with the food and the man's repair of the white gold mane that cascaded down his back.

"You take the chair, Eomer," Legolas offered, "you could use a rest. I'm sorry, I've should have had you take a break hours ago."

"Not at all, Legolas," the king said, "I'm just glad to be able to help. Where will you sit, though?"

"Merry and I will share the bed," the elf said sedately, pouring coffee from the flask.

"You're all over oil, Legolas," Merry protested.

"Put a towel down," Eomer told his squire, who did so, and the elf sat cross-legged, immediately attacking his dinner. "What news of the wall?" Eomer asked, wiping his hands off on a spare towel, as Merry served him up a plate.

"Thankfully, no one was hurt seriously," Merry told him, getting his own plate and settling in beside the elf on the edge of the bed. "But my Ladies did take a few moments from more wedding plans to reassure those who were injured." He grinned at Eomer. "I told my Lady you were busy with diplomatic matters and couldn't be disturbed. She seemed content with that."

Eomer laughed, choking a bit. He took a sip of wine and grinned back at his squire. "A diplomatic answer, that," he chuckled.

Legolas smiled broadly as he ate, enjoying the wordplay.

"Gimli says not to wait up for him," Merry continued, turning to the elf. "He also says if you get oil on his sheets, he'll do something unspeakable to you."

Legolas laughed. "And yet it's always me taking them to the laundry."

"Be that as it may, you're to wash thoroughly before bed, he said," Merry told him. "Personally, I think it's because the smell of the oil will make him hungry for some of those fried potatoes you two are always after."

"They're very good," the elf pointed out. "I'd never had them before and Sam cooks them to perfection. I must have him teach me how before you leave."

"Come on down to our rooms any time, Legolas." Merry told him. "Sam has caged some pots and pans from the kitchens and is cooking things you wouldn't believe in the hearth. Frodo's appetite still isn't what it should be."

The elf nodded sadly. "Nor will it be, I think, until he's back in Bag End once again. Love of home is very strong in him."

Merry nodded, taking another bite. Eomer sighed, slightly wistfully.

"You are always welcome to visit us, Eomer King," Merry pointed out. "We'd have to knock a wall out or two to accommodate your size, but I'm sure we can manage something."

"It's not always easy for kings to travel far and for long, Merry," Legolas told him, a hint of sadness in his voice. "The running of a kingdom is a serious business. Even in times of peace there are unforeseen difficulties. But, take heart, Gimli and I will be frequent visitors in the shire, I hope," he said.

"We'll have to stock up on potatoes, then." Merry said.

XxXxx

Down at the baths, Eomer called for more hot water, as he lathered the elf's hair for the third time. Legolas straddled a chair, bare chested and looking into the depths of the tub. Eomer's hands were firm as he worked in the soap.

"You'll have to do this a few more times, Legolas," he said, "but not tonight. I don't want to be too rough with you."

A muffled chuckle came from beneath the curtain of sudsy hair. "My friend, I do not think you could be rough with me if you tried," Legolas replied.

"I could snap you like kindling," Eomer laughed. "There's nought to you but sinew and bone."

"I meant," Legolas said, grinning up at him, "that it's not in your nature." Eomer smiled as he smoothed out the tangles as best he could and got the bucket to start pouring the rinse water. Once it was free of soap, he handed the elf a towel. Legolas began to dry it carefully, causing Eomer to smile even harder.

"You bathe first, Eomer," Legolas said, in a matter-of-fact voice. "I'm going to comb this out and braid it before I get in."

Eomer shrugged his assent, and once the tub was filled again, got in and began applying soap to his own oily chest. Legolas worked out the tangles and watched him surreptitiously. Working quickly, he braided the wet hair into one solid plait. He sighed, and Eomer turned to him, catching his eye.

"What is it?" he asked, as the elf met his gaze and held it. His heart beat a little quicker under the frankness of that look.

"It's going to be as curly as Pip's tomorrow," the elf said, disdainfully. "I'm not going to have Arwen giggling at me."

"We'll wash it again," Eomer said easily, sinking a little lower into the tub. "It'll be as sleek as it ever was."

Legolas flipped the braid behind him and, giving into his impulse, stepped to the tub. "Would you like help with your own hair?" he asked, his heart pounding in his throat at his boldness. "It only seem fair."

Eomer looked surprised. "Another elven custom?"

"Please, Eomer, allow me to repay some of your kindness," Legolas said softly, forcing his voice to steadiness. He ached to run his hands through the blond tangles, comb them out, braid them properly.

"If you insist," Eomer said affably, handing the elf the soap. He sank down, soaking his head, and surfaced.

Legolas knelt and soaped up the man's hair. Eomer, never having had his hair tended by anyone but himself, was startled at the intimacy of the act. He felt his cheeks flush as the elf gently massaged his scalp. He wondered if this was how the elf had felt during the day. It was no wonder he'd been almost purring!

"It feels good," he told the elf, surprising himself by the huskiness in his voice.

"It's supposed to," Legolas said, smiling widely. "Hair is very important, Eomer King. I thank you for understanding me well enough to help today. It was a great comfort to me and I am in your debt, Mir nin." The endearment slipped out. Legolas bit his tongue in frustration. If he wasn't more careful, he'd be blurting out truths that might hurt them both.

"Now you're slipping into Sindarin while you're saying important things?" Eomer asked, only half joking. The elf's hands stopped for a moment, then continued their soothing caresses.

"Sometimes," the elf admitted. "It's nothing. I mean, the Sindarin was nothing. Just a...name."

"Mir nin?" Eomer asked. "Is it an elvish variation of my name?"

"Not exactly," Legolas said, the tips of his ears turning hot. "It's more of a...nickname," he muttered, cursing himself for the slip. He sent up a silent prayer that Eomer wouldn't ask exactly what it meant.

"Oh," Eomer chuckled. "The proper diminutive would be 'Mer. Well, in the Mark, anyway."

Legolas grasped the offered straw. "Forgive me, Eomer King. I meant no disrespect by it, it is only a term of affection."

"My friend, you may call me anything you like," Eomer said.

"Mer. It's very close," Legolas mused. "Thank you for the privilege."

"And your name, Legolas? The meaning? Do you have a diminutive?"

"I am named for the green leaves in the wood," Legolas told him. "The sunshine dappling through the verdant new growth, like golden green waves in the breeze. But there is no shortening of it." He laughed, low in his throat, relief rising. "If you wish, you may call me Elf, as Gimli does. It works as well as any other name." Sighing, he gave the man one last pat. "There, you may rinse now," he told Eomer.

Ducking under the water again, and hearing Gimli's name introduced into the conversation once again helped Eomer bring himself back under control. The elf's ministrations had caused some consternation for him, a stirring of desire he'd not been expecting. Grabbing the towel, he stood and wrapped it around his waist, indicating the oily water.

"You might want fresh water, or the dwarf will have your head," he said, looking away for a moment. The elf studied him for a moment, realizing that Eomer was denying what he was obviously feeling physically and, knowing he had to respect that, felt his heart drop.

"It will be fine," the elf said, stripping off his trousers indifferently. He wrapped his braid around his head and stepped into the tub. "It's still hot enough." Quickly, while Eomer dried and dressed, he washed and was back out of the tub before the man had finished.

Eomer raised an eyebrow at him. The elf shrugged, drying himself off. He had no damning evidence about him to embarrass the man. Eomer concluded that he'd only imagined the slight quickening of the elf's breath as he knelt behind him.

"Gimli has to learn that he can't always have things his own way, Mer," he said. He slipped into his clean trousers and bundled up the oily clothes into one of the towels. "I suppose these cannot be washed?" he asked, taking the conversation to safer subjects.

"I wouldn't wear them again," Eomer said, "those little hooks get into the worst places."

Legolas nodded. "It seems shame to waste them," he said. "Perhaps they can be used for rags?"

"Probably," Eomer told him. Legolas unwrapped his braid, letting it hang down his bare back again. He dropped the bundle off with the bath attendants and turned back to the man.

"Come to my rooms for a cup of wine," Eomer suggested, sensing that something was troubling the elf again. "We can toast the perfection of your hair once again."

Legolas grinned in spite of himself. "One cup won't hurt," he admitted. "And it was a job well done. You have saved my honour."

Eomer clapped him on the shoulder. Legolas pulled on his boots and Eomer gestured about the room. "Didn't you forget something?" he asked. "Tunic? Shirt? You'll catch cold wandering about in just that."

"I don't get sick." Legolas pointed out. "Elves don't, I mean."

Avoiding the main corridors, they made their way back to Eomer's room, with a quick detour by the kitchens. Legolas had decided on coffee instead of wine and deftly carried the tray up the back stairs. Merry had considerately left a covered plate of pastry and wine out for his lord. Eomer smiled at this hobbit custom and picked up one of the cream filled ones. Legolas declined, and poured himself a mug of the hot black coffee. He sipped it, relishing the aroma and the bitter taste.

"I always pictured elves as more of tea drinkers," Eomer said, pouring wine for himself. He bit into his pastry, relishing the berry taste and the cream.

"It's a habit I seem to have acquired from the hobbits." Legolas said, grinning over the edge of the mug. "I find it very refreshing."

"I'll make sure to have some on hand when you come to visit," Eomer told him, licking the remains of the sticky jam from his fingers. "You may find it a bit harsh though. We make it when travelling with the herds, strong enough to stand a spoon in."

The elf laughed, delighted that Eomer assumed so easily that he would be visiting. Even as he told himself that Gimli had been talking to Eomer about the caves and the repairs on the Deeping Wall, he couldn't keep the grin from his face.

Friendship, then, was what Eomer had to offer. It would be enough, Legolas thought. He pushed desire from his mind as they talked in the manner of those who have stayed up late and found small silly things much too amusing, then switching to the solving of all the worlds problems. Eomer was animated as he described the plans he had for the Mark, the breeding schemes for the horses, hopes that the harvest would be enough this year to carry them over the worst of the winter. For every field razed in the war, they had replanted two, and the weather was cooperating. The coffee grew cold and the pastries all eaten, they were surprised when the first flickers of dawn danced through the open windows and they realized they had talked the night away.

"Forgive me, Eomer King, I did not mean to keep you from your sleep!" the elf exclaimed, rising swiftly from his chair.

"How could you, when it was me who did most of the talking?" Eomer asked him, grinning. "It was grand, wasn't it?" he asked.

"It was," Legolas replied, smiling back. "I should go, though, let you rest before your day begins."

"It already has," Eomer said, nodding at the rising sun. "Breakfast should be here shortly. I've always been an early riser. Stay, share it with me," he offered, suddenly a little shy. He glanced away, not wanting the elf to catch the eagerness in his eyes, and he wanted to hold on to this feeling just a little bit longer.

Legolas looked earnestly at him. "If you want me to, how can I refuse?" he asked, gently. He had been torn between knowing he should go, conscious of having taken up so much of the man's time, and wanting to allow himself the indulgence of spending just a few more moments with him. The night had been special and he would cherish it in his memories.

Breakfast was eaten, Eomer joked that the reason Legolas needed little sleep was the amount of coffee he drank, and as they were lingering over the last cup, there was a discreet knock on the door.

"Come!" Eomer called, expecting Merry, reporting for the day.

It was Eowyn, who's blue eyes turned dark at the sight of them.


	10. Never Be The Same

**Never Be The Same**

_You led me here,  
then I watched you disappear.  
You left this emptiness inside  
and I can't turn back time  
No, stay!  
Nothing compares to you.  
Nothing compares to you._

_~ Red_

Both Eomer and Legolas jumped to their feet as the White Lady entered, Eomer wiping crumbs from his lap. She stared at them as she registered the slightly sheepish look on Eomer's face, a flicker of something like embarrassment on the elf's. Eomer crossed the room to her, hands extended, breaking the awkward silence.

"Eowyn!" he said jovially, "I am completely at your disposal today! Does the Queen have yet another change to the ceremonies?" He reached down and kissed her cheek, while the elf, suddenly realizing that he was shirtless, felt the tips of his ears burn.

Her eyes flickered over the elf, then narrowed slightly, as she turned back to her brother. "I didn't mean to disturb you," she said, her voice suddenly very quiet. "I'll come back later."

"No, my Lady, I was just leaving," the elf almost stammered. "Thank you again, Eomer King, for all your help." Then, to their consternation, he slipped out the window, the drapes flickering in his wake.

"I wish he would stop doing that," Eomer muttered under his breath.

"Running off?" Eowyn asked, looking intently at her brother's face. "Or running about half naked?"

"Using windows as doors. It's uncanny how he shimmies about the place." Eomer said, leading Eowyn to the seat at the table the elf had so recently vacated. "Would you like tea?"

"Eomer," she said, in that voice sisters reserve especially for their brothers. "What is going on?"

"We were just finishing breakfast," he told her. "We talked the night away, but sometimes good company is better for the soul than sleep. Did you sleep well, Eowyn?" he asked, pouring her a cup.

"Don't try to distract me again, Eomer. I'm worried about you, brother. What is going on with the elf?" Her voice was tender, and she reached out to pat his arm.

"Nothing. We're friends, I keep telling you that, why won't you believe me?" he asked, covering her hand with his for a moment, squeezing it with warmth at her concern, then placing the cup before her.

"Perhaps it's the way his eyes follow you, all the time," she said, absently sipping at the tea. She frowned at it's tepidness and put it away from her. "You need to be careful, Eomer. You're King in Rohan now, you have to take this sort of thing very seriously."

"What sort of thing?" Eomer asked, meeting her gaze and holding it steadily. "Having a friend who cares about how I'm feeling?"

"No, having a dalliance with an elf who's going to leave with the dwarf while you have to consider who you're going to marry. The succession must be protected after all." Eowyn did not flinch at the hardness of her words, nor did her brother.

"There's no dalliance, nothing like that at all." Eomer said, his heart sinking, as the image of that neatly made bed flashed in his mind. "How can I forget about getting married when you're not only doing it yourself in a few days, but every time I turn around you or Arwen or Aragorn has yet another candidate, shining, virtuous, a veritable paragon of womanhood," he told her with forced jocularity as he sank down into his chair.

"And how will you choose if you spend all your free time with Legolas?" she asked him gently. "This is the perfect opportunity for you to meet eligible women, to get to know them." She reached across the table to take his hands in hers, holding them firmly. "It's not just you, Eomer. It's the whole of Rohan on your shoulders."

"I never forget it," he replied, in a bitter whisper. "I know my duty, Eowyn. Please, don't try to force me into an arrangement with a woman I barely know."

"It would have been so much easier on you if Theodred had lived..." she began, pity in her voice, her hands firm in his.

"But he didn't. And I must take his place, unworthy as I am." Eomer said bleakly. "I have Higa and Eothain to help, and yes, I must have an heir." He sighed "Legolas has it easy, he doesn't have to worry about that."

"You do," Eowyn said, mercilessly, trying to force his mind of the elf. "You'll find the right girl, Eomer, I know you will. It's not like there have never been women that have caught your eye, after all." She winked. "That little brunette back in your teens, for instance."

"Yes, but not my heart," he sighed. "You'd not have me rush into a political arrangement with no thought of happiness, sister?"

"Of course not, Eomer," her eyes softened. "I wish you to be as happy as I am. Happier. But you need a consort who will be a help to you, a wife to run your house and give you children."

"For pity's sake, Eowyn, we've lost everyone except each other and I don't want to fight with you!" He stood and moved to kiss her cheek affectionately. "You will never know how grateful I am that you and Faramir have found happiness together. But can I not have a little time to get used to the changes that have taken place in my life?" He spread his hands in front of her, a gesture of pleading he'd have shown to no one else.

She reached up to brush back the hair that had fallen into his eyes. "Eomer, please, I'm not fighting with you. I'm concerned. I know you, I love you, and I want you to promise me that you will let your head govern you in this."

"You worry needlessly, Eowyn," he said, a wry grin stretching his lips. "He's a good friend, that's all. I'm enjoying my time with him before duty calls me back to the Mark and he and Gimli begin their travels once again." He looked at her. "Why do you make him so nervous?" he asked.

She coloured. "You'll have to ask him," she said. "I really don't know."

"I know when you're lying to me, Eowyn," he chided tenderly.

"I know when you're lying to me as well," she told him, smiling. "I've seen your eyes when you look at him. Whenever he laughs, your face softens." She caught his hands again. "Look, Eomer, I understand, he's very handsome, and as you say, he's far from home and very fond of you. Just guard yourself, that's all. I don't want to see you make a fool of yourself or mistake friendship for something deeper."

"Tell me why he runs every time you come into the room." Eomer pressed.

She looked down. "He may have seen something neither of us would have wished him to witness," she said, cryptically.

"He insulted you?" Eomer exclaimed, rising from his chair.

"No, no, nothing like that! Please, Eomer don't press me on this." She looked up from lowered lashes. "He's said nothing to you?"

"Should he have?" Eomer asked, scowling, his hands clenching into fists.

"It was a piece of folly on my part," she explained. "I'd rather not speak of it. But I will tell you that before Uncle died, before Faramir, well, I allowed myself to be distracted by my own imagination."

Eomer started, and she continued, her voice low, looking down at the carpet. "I understand how easy it is to fall into dreams, Eomer. And the shame that it may bring."

"Eowyn," he said gently, lifting her face up to look at him, "there was a lot of madness in those fearful days. I'm sure you can have done nothing to dishonour yourself and anyone who may have knowledge of this particular thing would think no less of you. Let it go."

"The elf is still not for you, Eomer," she said firmly.

"And well I know it," he told her. "I wish you had been Queen, Eowyn. It would have made my life much easier," he sighed.

"A King must defend his people. I will never ride to battle again," she said softly. "You are much the better choice, brother."

"A King must have an heir. You would have been the better choice there, sister."

"Eomer, I know how hard it is to govern your heart. But in this you must be strong. You must make your choice from the women available, not let your attraction to the handsome, exotic, laughing elf sway you. You must let your head rule in this. I'm sorry it has to be this way. Had Theodred lived, well, perhaps then..." she trailed off, as her brother's eyes blazed.

"You know nothing of this, Eowyn!" he rumbled dangerously. "My life has been ripped from me and I see my duty as plain as you do! Allow me this friend, who, handsome or not, cheers me when the weight of what I have become threatens to crush me. And know this too, sister, I will not wed where I cannot love. Your children will be my heirs as well, don't forget."

Eowyn's bright eyes flashed at him. "They will be Faramir's children as well, his heirs, too! I'm trying to protect you, Eomer, not hurt you! You don't know the pain, the shame of thinking that affection is something deeper, to confessing that esteem, to having it thrown back in your face..." she broke off, all the colour draining from her face.

He pulled her up from her chair and embraced her. "The man who did that to you will die," he said softly.

"No," she told him. "You can never mention this to anyone."

"I'll kill the elf myself," Eomer said, knowing full well that wasn't who she meant.

"Aragorn was very kind," she said into his shoulder. "Now that I know Arwen, have felt Faramir's real, true love for me, I understand it completely. I was a fool, Eomer, and the worst was that I couldn't tell you, couldn't tell anyone. The humiliation was too great."

He rubbed her back soothingly, feeling her relax in his arms. "The shield-maidens have always been known for their pride, Eowyn." He kissed the top of her head. "And you the proudest of them all. As Aragorn brought you back from death's door, I shall forgive him this one time."

She chuckled and pulled away, looking up at him, her blue eyes filled with compassion. "I never want you to feel that way, Eomer," she said, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

"Oh, never worry about me, sister," he told her, grinning. "I will find my consort somewhere, and to oblige you, I shall spend the days left before the wedding getting to know some of these wonders of womanhood you have chosen for me."

xxXxx

"The gossip is in full force," Pip told the dwarf and elf three days later. "The word is that Eomer is choosing a bride while he's here, and every available woman and her mamma is in a panic."

The elf's eyes narrowed as the dwarf glanced at the hobbit over the table. They were sharing their usual ale, waiting for Merry to join them in the tavern.

"Who is the good money on?" the dwarf asked casually.

"There are a few that he's been spending quite a bit of time with. All are beautiful, kind, gentlewomen. All worthy of his honour, it's said." Pip told him, grinning over his tankard.

"You've got the inside information from Merry, I suppose," Gimli said.

Pip gave them an impudent smile. "Who do you think carries the picnic baskets and hold's the lady's bridle while she dismounts?" he chuckled. "But the strange thing is that Merry says Eomer is acting like a man going through the motions. It's all very proper and well chaperoned and the King hasn't said one word that could be taken as a promise." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "He says Eomer is acting like this to keep the White Lady happy."

"The Lady Eowyn?" Gimli asked, risking a glance at the silent elf.

"She would want him settled before starting on her new life," Legolas pointed out. "They are very close, after all."

"Has he said anything to you, Legolas?" Pip asked.

"No, I haven't seen much of him lately," the elf replied calmly. Since his hurried departure that morning, he'd seen Eomer for no more than a few minutes at a time. Eomer had no time to stop and pass the time of day, claiming Eowyn was demanding all his attention. Even as he smiled his goodbyes to the elf, Legolas had seen the longing in the man's eyes. Considerate of the King's feelings, Legolas had stayed away, merely saying hello as they passed in the halls or the streets. If Eomer wondered that Legolas ran across his path so frequently, he kept it to himself.

"There's Merry now, we can ask him," Pip said, as the curly head of the hobbit bobbed through the crowd in the tavern. He crossed to their table, but instead of his usual wide and easy grin, he looked pensive.

"How are things with the King?" Gimli asked him, signalling for another round of ale.

Merry pulled out his pipe and packed it thoughtfully. "He's not himself, that's for sure," he replied. "In fact, I'm a little worried about him."

"What's wrong?" Legolas asked instantly.

Merry lit his pipe and inhaled deeply before answering. "He won't tell me, but I think all this marriage nonsense is getting to him. Not the Lady's," he added hurriedly, seeing the black look Gimli shot him, "but this other business about him picking a wife. I've seen men choose horses with more enthusiasm."

"I doubt he'll have found someone before he goes back to the Rohan," Gimli said.

Merry nodded. "Not out of this lot, at any rate. Not even a twinkle in his eye."

Legolas tried to ignore the prickle that ran down the base of his spine and sipped at his ale. Merry tilted his head and looked at the elf.

"Would you go and talk to him, Legolas?" he asked. "You always seem to cheer him up, and maybe you can make him see sense. After all, he doesn't need to get married the same week as the Lady Eowyn."

"He does value your counsel," Gimli said, nodding at his friend. "Perhaps he's rushing things to please her and could use a cool head and advice."

Legolas kicked the dwarf under the table. Gimli gave no notice, pulling out his own pipe. "He may need a friend to confide in," he said placidly.

"Of course I'll go," Legolas said, looking at the worried hobbits. "Once I finish my ale." Merry sighed in relief.

"He'll listen to you. At least you can get him to see the humour in the situation. Nobody makes him laugh like you do, Legolas, not even me."

xxXxx

Eomer sat with his head in his hands, thinking over the days activities. Obedient to Eowyn's wishes, he'd spent the afternoon with a party of the nobles of Gondor, heavily skewed in favour of unmarried ladies. A pre-wedding tea, she had called it. Aragorn had watched him sympathetically, even going so far as to call him away from one or another of the fawning, pretty girls. Nice girls, most of them. Eomer had quickly weeded out the ones who were interested in the crown. He paid attention to the ones who had asked about him, about Rohan, about how the kingdom was faring. But none had made him smile with a a quick and quiet joke or witty observation. One had been very kind, asking how he was faring after his bereavement. But he caught himself noticing that her hair was dark curls, not the starlight pulled back into braids he'd half expected from her tone.

He sighed and stood up, walking over to the open window, bare feet padding on the carpet, pulling his robe closer against the night breezes, and looking out at the stars. Eowyn's words had gone to the core of him and forced him to realize that what he wanted, he couldn't have, even had the elf been free. He had a duty to his land and his forefathers, and somewhere out there, there must be a woman who would be right for him.

"Eomer King?" Legolas called softly, knocking on the door. "May I have a moment?" He opened it slightly and poked his head in.

"Come in," Eomer said evenly. "What brings you by, Legolas?"

"Just to see how you are," the elf said, coming in and shutting the door behind him. He crossed the room to the hearth, where the chairs he and Eomer usually used sat. Merry's nightly offering of pastry sat beside the carafe of wine on the little end table between the chairs. The elf smiled at the half eaten berry and cream one on the side of the plate. "Merry is worried about you."

"He needn't be," Eomer said, still looking out the window. "How is Gimli?"

"Fine," Legolas answered, puzzled at the question. "He sends his best. I left him in the tavern with Pip and Merry, smoking those foul pipes of theirs."

Eomer smiled at that, and turned to face the elf. "Would you like wine?"

"Thank you, I can pour," Legolas said. He did so and handed the cup to the man, his keen eyes searching Eomer's face. "Oh, Mer," he said quietly, "what are you doing to yourself?" The words came out before he could stop them. "Forgive me, but you look so unhappy!" he quickly added.

"It is that obvious?" Eomer asked, tossing back the wine in one quick movement and holding out the cup for another. Legolas refilled it and Eomer sipped at it, to the elf's relief.

"You have been the subject of some considerable rumours that past few days," Legolas told him, taking his usual chair.

"You mean I've been the prize stallion at the fair," Eomer corrected him, waving his cup about. "Every woman under eighty and over eighteen has been paraded in front of me. The names all run together, but a few have stood out."

Legolas' mouth went dry and he sipped cautiously, wetting his lips before saying, "Tell me about those."

Eomer laughed bitterly, striding across the carpet. "There was a lovely blonde. Very well born, they tell me. Scared to death of horses. Can you believe that?"

The elf smiled in spite of himself. "That could be problematic," he agreed.

"How can anyone be afraid of horses?" Eomer sputtered. "Then there was a girl, dark hair and eyes as blue as cornflowers. Whispered that she could break her engagement at a moment's notice."

"Mercenary little minx," Legolas replied, starting to enjoy Eomer's summary of the women he'd met.

"Made me wonder if I should slip a word into Arwen's ear to have her food tasted."

"Arwen could break her in half, poisoned or not," Legolas supplied. "Elves are nowhere near as delicate as they look. Arwen could take _you_ down."

Eomer chuckled. "I'll make it a point to stay on her good side, then. And if I hear one more girl gush about how much she wants a family and children, I'm going to be sick. All their married sisters have oodles of children, I would think that would give them enough little ones to look after."

"Ah, that's to let you know, discreetly of course, that they come of good breeding stock," Legolas laughed, tapping the side of his nose.

"By the Valar, Legolas, it's going to drive me mad! If I hadn't promised Eowyn..." he broke off, looking carefully at the elf. Legolas nodded at him. "Oh, well, I have no secrets from you, my friend," Eomer continued. "She's very anxious that I find a wife."

"Surely she wants you to find a woman you can be happy with," the elf said, earnestly. "You're not going to find anyone with this rushing around and blurring cavalcade of ladies."

"It's the succession," Eomer said, falling into his chair, his voice thick with frustration. "She's worried to death that something will happen and Rohan will be left leaderless."

"But she is your heir right now," Legolas pointed out, "with Faramir to help her. And if she is blessed with children..."

"Theodred was heir. It allowed Eowyn and I a certain freedom. Now, the cares of the Mark fall on us." Eomer said, his eyes tinged with sadness. "Well, me."

"And you are young and strong and healthy. I don't see you falling in battle any time soon. Don't rush yourself into this, Eomer. Once Eowyn is finally married," and Eomer reached out to clink his goblet with the elf's, "she'll be too busy in her life to try and settle yours."

"Do you really think so?" Eomer asked doubtfully, looking down at the remains of the wine in his cup.

"Certainly. She wants you to be happy. She loves you so very much, she only wants what's best for you." The elf sighed. "It almost makes me wish I had a sister, but the dwarf does as well for a wanderer like me, I guess."

"But how?" Eomer asked, forcefully, slamming his goblet down on the end table harder than he meant. "How did you slip your father's control, his plans for you?"

Legolas stared at him for a moment. Then he reached across the space to lay his hands on the man's forearms. "I saw an opportunity and I took it. This is my life, Mer, not his. I do not have to follow his path, I make my own."

"And are you happy?" Eomer's hazel eyes blazed as he looked deeply into the sky blue of the elf's.

Legolas' eyes widened for a moment, and a soft smile crossed his lips. "Yes," he replied gently. "I am happy. Right here and right now." He softly stroked the man's arm. "Are you, Mir nin?"

"I'm confused," Eomer confessed. "I can't see the best way to go."

"It will all come clear in time," the elf told him. "You are losing your sister, you have been thrust into new duties and responsibilities, you are not a selfish man, Eomer, you will do what is right for your land, your people, your family." He reached up to cup the man's face in his hand. "Just don't make yourself miserable trying to solve all your problems at once. Patience, my friend, is what you need. Time solves many things that seem insurmountable."

He stood, still gently holding Eomer's cheek and placed a chaste kiss on the top of his head. "I am always here to help if I can." Legolas told him. "A word from you will bring me at any time." He straightened and looked out the window at the stars. "Think about what you and your sister mean to each other," he said. "Your bond is too strong to be broken by small disagreements. I bid you goodnight, Mer. Sleep well."

He was almost at the door when Eomer whispered, in a hoarse voice, "Stay?"

Legolas, his heat pounding, turned to face the man, but having deduced a lot of what Eomer hadn't said about Eowyn, shook his head sadly. "I should spend the night in my own room. I would not have any repercussions fall on you." He went out into the hall, shutting the door firmly behind him.


	11. Not Strong Enough

**Not Strong Enough**

_I'm not strong enough to stay away.  
Can't run from you  
I just run back to you.  
Like a moth I'm drawn in to your flame,  
Say my name, but it's not the same.  
You look in my eyes, I'm stripped of my pride.  
And my soul surrenders, and you bring my heart to it's knees.  
_

_~ Apocalyptica_

As they walked down the corridors that led to Eowyn's suite of rooms, impeccably dressed and groomed, nodding to those who greeted them, only Gimli was aware that behind the elf's impassive face he was a bundle of nerves. He could tell by the slight crease in the corner of his eyes, and the occasional desperate glance at an open window.

"Stop fretting, lad," Gimli said quietly. "It's a joyful occasion, after all."

"What if she doesn't like it?" the elf whispered back. "It may not be to her taste."

"We can only hope she appreciates the thought behind the gift," Gimli told him.

"She's probably too busy to see us, Gimli," Legolas pointed out. "The wedding is tomorrow."

"It'll only take a moment, Legolas." He smiled up at his tall friend. "Trust me."

"I hate it when you say that," Legolas muttered. "There's a lot riding on this, you know."

"I'll do the talking," Gimli reassured him. "It wouldn't hurt if you said a few words too."

"I'll try," the elf said, "but I don't know if she'll appreciate it."

"You mean you don't know what to say," Gimli said, as they approached the rooms. "Just keep it simple and from the heart." The sound of women's voices came clearly from the open door. Gimli knocked on the wood, clearing his throat loudly to make sure he was heard. That brought a smile to to the elf, impressed as always by the dwarf's confidence.

"Master Gimli!" Eowyn cried, spotting them and coming from the cluster of ladies in the centre of the room to greet them, a brilliant smile on her face. "Master Elf," she added, her eyes unconsciously darkening a bit. "How wonderful to see you!"

Gimli made his best bow, and Legolas covered his heart and inclined his head. He stood a few steps behind his friend, as always. Gimli pulled him in closer as he looked up at the White Lady.

"We have come to wish you joy in your new life, and to beg you to accept this small token of our respect and affection on this happy occasion," he told her, handing her a small package wrapped in green silk.

She looked slightly puzzled as she took the bundle. Gimli surreptitiously nudged the elf. Legolas tried to speak the words he'd been rehearsing all morning.

"My Lady, I wish you green and golden paths and sweet water for all the days of your life," he told her, and inwardly winced. It had sounded so much better in his head, in Sindarin. "May you always be as happy as you are now."

"Please," Gimli urged her, "open it."

She smiled at him, and as she unfolded the delicate fabric her expression changed from one of curiosity to amazed delight as she revealed the small and delicate horse pendant on it's golden chain.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, holding it up in the afternoon sunshine. The horse seemed to blend the artistic styles of the elves and the dwarves, making it a thing both strong and ethereal.

Gimli beamed and Legolas released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"We're so glad you like it!" Gimli enthused. "May it always remind you of the great esteem we hold for you."

"I love it!" she said, draping the chain around her neck. The polished gold gleamed like a small sun. She reached down and impulsively hugged the dwarf. "Thank you so much!" Gimli returned the embrace for a moment, his face wreathed in smiles that not even his beard could hide. She stood and reached out for the elf, caught up in the moment. "Thank you, Legolas. I shall always treasure it." She took him by the arm, but the act was so unexpected for them both that he froze and she, embarrassed, pulled away from him quickly, her cheeks colouring.

"We shan't keep you any longer," Gimli told her, taking the situation in hand. "We shall see you at the celebrations tomorrow." They bowed again and left, as she watched them go, fingering the golden horse at her throat.

Back in the hall, Legolas groaned. "I ruined it again," he told his friend. "This is never going to get any better." His hands balled into fists in frustration.

"Give it time, lad," Gimli had said, thumping him on the arm. "It's a beginning after all."

While the dwarf went to inspect the flowered arches that had been built in the courtyard, Legolas, suddenly furious, began to run, and quickly slipped out of the city to get himself back under control. He made his way to the rocky wilderness behind Minas Tirith and lost himself for a little while, listening to the heartbeat of the wilds, letting it soothe him.

She was never going to be comfortable with him. He turned it over and over again in his mind She was never going to like him, smile at him the way she did for Gimli. There would be no small jokes and friendly concern with him. He had to accept that. He had no way to tell her how he felt, no way that wouldn't make things worse.

He perched in the branches of one of the crooked trees, the cooling breeze gently blowing loose strands of his hair about. He looked out to the sky, watching the sparkles of sun dance among the clouds while he worked once again to untangle his thoughts from the feelings racing through him. As hard as it was to keep his distance from Eomer, he recoiled from the idea of coming between the siblings. Eowyn was vital to Eomer's happiness and that made her important to the elf. He admired her for her own merit as well, but he could see no way of bridging the gap between them.

And the more he was away from Eomer, the harder it was to keep his thoughts on friendship and not love. The whole farce of Eomer's search for a bride had shown him how difficult it was going to be. He didn't want to be a friend on the outside, he wanted to be the one that Eomer turned to for support, for love, for his happiness. He couldn't stop the flashes of desire that flared through him like lightning when he heard Eomer's voice, remembered certain looks.

Gimli counseled patience. Legolas closed his eyes and tried to force the man's scent out of his mind. It was easy for Gimli, he thought, Gimli had never had this aching need. Gimli had looked into the face of an enemy and had found nothing but love and acceptance. His heart had been given at that moment, to the pure love that had salved his soul and the woman who had given him peace.

But Eomer was there, not ethereal and unobtainable. He was flesh and blood and human with his own faults and contradictions. The man wanted him, Legolas understood that. What he didn't understand was why he was denying it. Was Eowyn and her insistence that he marry and father children part of it? Was her dislike of him strong enough to influence Eomer against his own inclinations?

Patience. But it was hard, when his waking dreams were full of the man. He opened his eyes and steeled himself again for what he must do. But he would also keep an eye out for an opportunity.

XxXxx

That evening found Legolas walking along the stone corridors on his way to Eomer's door once again. He was grateful to be here on a legitimate errand. The struggles of the afternoon had been pushed back down and he was in firm command of his emotions once again.

The king opened it, looking slightly puzzled.

"Legolas? Is everything alright with you?" he asked, his hazel eyes searching the elf's face for any sign of distress. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."

"I am fine, Eomer King," the elf replied. "I have come to issue an invitation to you." He grinned, his sky blue eyes twinkling. "Aragorn wants us to join Faramir for a private drink before all the chaos descends tomorrow. Merry and the other hobbits are already there, and I was sent to fetch you." He executed a teasing little bow.

"I'm a King, I don't think I get 'fetched'," Eomer said, an answering smile blooming on his face at the elf's jest.

"When King Aragorn of Gondor says fetch, well..." the elf shrugged. "It has sort of become instinct. Will you come?"

"Of course," Eomer said, nodding. "I suppose Aragorn has provided the wine? Shall I bring anything else?"

"Just your good company," the elf said, leading Eomer off to Aragorn's suite.

Arwen had supervised the restoration of the long disused King's Chambers and they blended elven design with Gondor's heavier decorations with a taste and comfort that always surprised the King of Rohan. Delicate draperies covered windows and exquisite tapestries covered the walls.

"Why don't your rooms look like this?" Eomer asked the elf as they entered. "Or is dwarven decorating beyond Gimli's skill?"

"You've not seen our gift to your sister, then?" the elf asked, raising a brow. "We designed it together, but the execution was his." He wondered if Eowyn had decided not to show him.

"Not yet," Eomer admitted. "But then she's been sequestered with her ladies and the Queen for most of the day."

The elf nodded, relieved. "We presented it to her earlier this afternoon. She seemed very pleased with it. Gimli made one of his gallant little speeches. He's quite the romantic under all that hair, and weddings seem to bring out the worst in him," the elf chuckled.

Aragorn and Faramir welcomed them heartily and showed them to seats pulled close to the window. Frodo was ensconced in the best chair in the room, with Sam in close attendance while Merry and Pip shared a divan. Gimli stood by the small table that held the wine and cups. Flickering candles and lamps chased away the falling dusk.

Frodo, although looking much better than he had, was still pale and wan compared to the more robust Merry and Pip. Sam was plying him with sandwiches and pastries.

"No fried potatoes?" Legolas asked, as he made he way to the chair beside them, sitting gracefully.

"Maybe later?" Sam replied, a grin on his broad face. "You really need to learn to make them yourself," he added.

"I intend to," Legolas told him, smiling at him as he took the cup the dwarf offered him.

"Well, here we all are," Aragorn said, a gentle smile on his face. "Faramir, you have our heartiest congratulations on marrying a woman of such valour, beauty and virtue as the Lady Eowyn. May all your days be happy!" he toasted, raising his glass high. The others sprang to their feet to drink to Eowyn.

Faramir blushed slightly as he raised his glass to his lady. Drinking deeply, when he was done, Gimli refilled the cups all around, as each of the companions made a similar toast, praising Eowyn. Finally it was Eomer's turn. He had been thinking hard about what he was going to say.

"Faramir, I congratulate you on finding true love with my sister! She deserves nothing less. I am both proud and happy to welcome you to the royal family of Rohan."

Faramir started a bit at that, but raised his cup and drained it.

"True love!" Gimli echoed, and Legolas rolled his eyes at Eomer, a slight smile playing about his lips. They seated themselves comfortably, with Gimli perched on the arm of the elf's chair. Faramir and Eomer shared a low couch while the hobbits settled back into the divan.

"Once found, never to be abandoned," Aragorn added softly, nodding at the dwarf.

"Or forgotten," Sam whispered, a far away look in his eyes. Frodo patted his arm sympathetically.

"May we all find it," Merry said, winking at Pip, who grinned back at him.

"In all its forms," Legolas said, looking at the dwarf, who's face grew tender as he gripped the elf by the wrist for a moment. Eomer caught the fleeting, gentle glance that passed between them, as if they were sharing a precious secret once again. He felt a white hot flame in his gut.

"Yes, but how will I know when it's real, true, love?" Pip asked, helping himself to one of Frodo's sandwiches. "Do I just find a likely lass and say 'Well, how about it?'"

Merry shook his head at him while Sam snorted in derision.

"You'll know, lad," Gimli said solemnly.

"But how?" Pip persisted, innocent eyed, nibbling at his crust.

"Forgive him, he's young," Frodo said indulgently. "And has learned nothing in his travels." He scowled at his cousin. "You know dwarves don't speak of their personal lives, Pip, that was impolite."

"Sorry, Gimli," Pippin said, swallowing. "But I am curious. Aragorn, will you tell me?"

Aragorn's face took on that look of awe that it always wore when he contemplated his bride. "All I can tell you, Pip, is that meeting Arwen changed me, forever. It made me feel how inadequate I was, how unworthy of her affection. It made me want to be a better man for her."

"Exactly," Faramir added, looking humble. "And there was such a shade of sorrow about my lady that I wished I was worthy to comfort her, to take some of the burden from her shoulders. I wanted to make her happy." He looked apprehensively to Eomer for a moment, to find the King smiling at him. He smiled back and Eomer reached over to grip him by the shoulder, giving him a gentle shake of approval.

"You have, brother," Eomer told him. "I've never seen her happier or more content."

"And if the prospective Madam Took shows me the door?" Pip continued, taking another sandwich. "Do I hang around the stoop until she takes pity on me, or pack up my heart and live alone?"

Merry rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "You'll be single all your days if you eat all her sandwiches," he pointed out. "At least until she accepts you. Find a friend first, Pip. That's the hobbit way. Sam and Rosie fairly grew up together."

Sam coloured a bit. "True, but by now, who knows who she may have chosen."

"Sam," Frodo said fondly, "always so modest. You've only to say the word, you know. I don't think she's ever considered anyone but you."

xxXxx

"How much of that was for my benefit?" Eomer asked later on, as he and the elf entered his rooms after the festivities ended.

"Some," Legolas admitted, matter-of-factly. "We are all a little worried about your frantic search for a consort."

"You needn't be," Eomer told him, waving him to one of the chairs by the hearth. "That's over for now."

Legolas felt his spine prickle. "You've found someone?" he asked casually, easing himself into his chair.

"No, I've decided to act like a rational man again," Eomer said, a sad lilt in his voice. "I'm surprised at Pippin though. He left out what he should do if the future Madam Took," and here he grinned and shook his head, "was already attached."

"Are you reconsidering the Lady of the Disposable Betrothed?" Legolas asked lightly, hiding the feeling of glee that involuntarily washed over him.

Eomer laughed and sat down. He stretched out his legs and sighed. "Not on your life! But it would be hard to love someone who could never love you back."

"I think," Legolas began cautiously, thinking of the dwarf, "that it would depend on the people involved. There have been folk who have cherished someone with never a word to them, wanting only the best for the other, and it has made them more than they could have imagined."

"And they write sad and touching ballads about them," Eomer said. "I don't know that I'd want that kind of life, though."

"It takes a special kind of person for that, I would think." Legolas replied, his voice as soft as his eyes. "Most of us are happier with the regular give and take, everyday companionship that comes with love."

"Maybe the hobbits are right," Eomer said, pushing his hair back from his eyes. "Find a friend first." He broke into a wide grin. "I would love to be there when Pippin starts courting. That poor lass will never know what's hit her."

Legolas started laughing. "If she's anything like him, the Shire will never be the same!" he chuckled. "Think of the madcap adventures he'd consider proper courting behavior!"

"Can you imagine the size of the picnic basket?" Eomer asked. "They'll need a separate pony just for that!"

"Or stalwart Merry with a cart," Legolas suggested. "You must make him promise to write with all the details when it happens!"

"I'm going to miss them when they're gone," Eomer said. "All of you, actually."

"All of us?" Legolas asked, surprised.

"Well, they'll be gone, you and Gimli will be off on your travels soon..."

"Not that soon," the elf interrupted. "There is still so much to do here. And we'll always be in the vicinity, so to speak."

Eomer brightened. "That is good news. And, as Eowyn keeps telling me, I'm not losing her, I'm gaining Faramir, so I shan't be completely alone."

"You'll never be alone, Eomer," Legolas said. "I have a feeling Gimli will live in those caves of yours if you let him." He shook his head. "No, you'll not get rid of us that easily."

"That is a comfort." Eomer told him, giving him a quick look, then turning his face away. He stood, and Legolas recognized it was time for him to go, again.

"I shall leave you to your rest, Mer," he said, smiling gently. "You will need it for tomorrow, when you gain your brother." He reached out to grip Eomer's shoulder.

Eomer pulled him into an embrace and held him tightly. "Thank you," he said, into the elf's hair. The fragrance was as sweet as he'd remembered it. He breathed in deeply, savouring it. Legolas, startled, froze for a second and then relaxed into the man as if he'd been there all his life.

"Mir nin," he whispered, as Eomer's hands tangled in his hair. He sighed in bliss, and then a wicked grin crossed his face as he felt the proof of the man's arousal against him. "Mir nin," he repeated.

Eomer kissed the elf gently on the cheek and pulled away. "I don't know what I would do without your friendship," he said, turning away. "Thank you, Legolas."

"I am here for you always," the elf told him. He looked longingly at the man for a moment, not wanting to embarrass him as Eomer fought for control of himself. "I shall see you tomorrow, Mer."

As he closed the door behind him, Legolas grinned and began to consider this development.


	12. No Light, No Light

**No Light, No Light**

_No light, no light in your bright blue eyes  
I never knew daylight could be so violent  
A revelation in the light of day  
You can't choose what stays and what fades away_

~ Florence and the Machine

Eowyn and Faramir took their leave from the celebrations, followed by Arwen and her ladies, singing one last wedding hymn. If any had thought the departure of the bride and groom would dampen the festivities, they were sorely mistaken. Merry and Pippin were persuaded to grace the company with a song, a rollicking tune that had feet tapping, tankards being clanged and guests whistling the chorus along with the hobbits.

Eomer was pressed to take yet another drink. Legolas offered him some of the carefully hoarded Dorwinion, and as he clanked his goblet against that of his friend, he wondered just how much the elf had had. His cheeks and the tips of his ears were beginning to look flushed, and there was a brilliance in the blue eyes as they sparkled in the light of the multitude of candles that illuminated the hall.

Gimli staggered up and took a chair beside the bride's brother. "Eomer, lad," he said, banging his tankard on the table. "We need you to settle a bet. Yonder princeling," and he waved vaguely in the elf's direction, "claims he took down seventeen on that Mumak. Plus the Mumak. It only counts as one, I say."

Legolas winked at the king. "Nineteen."

Eomer, feeling the wine and enjoying being included in the jest, smiled at the dwarf. "I counted each of the Mumak I brought down as twenty. But I'll concede to the elf that it was nineteen. We should have another opinion though. Let's check with Merry! Meriadoc, Esquire of Rohan," he bellowed, his voice carrying over the hubbub in the hall. "I require your services!"

"Sire?" Merry piped up, weaving quickly through the throng of guests. Legolas beamed at the hobbit and poured him some of the Dorwinion.

"How many Harad were on that Mumak you and Eowyn killed?" Eomer asked, bending close to the curly head. Gimli looked discomfited.

"Hard to say, Sire," Merry twinkled. "Might have been as many as twenty-two. We were in a bit of a hurry, and didn't stop to count."

"There you have it." Eomer said genially. "Nineteen seems entirely reasonable." Gimli glowered good naturedly at the elf as Eomer continued. "You can, of course, count any Mamukil you brought down as nineteen as well, so that would make you even, wait..."

"You must admit that there was a certain panache about my kill." Legolas put in, absently inspecting the nails of his left hand. "I demand extra points for style."

"You've enough points on those ears of yours," Gimli told him, trying to hide a smile. "Eomer brought two down in fine, workmanlike fashion, with none of your skittering about."

"Skittering?" the elf replied, eyebrows reaching to his hairline.

"Yes, one straight shot with the lance. None of this elvish flittering."

"That's worse than skittering. But he has a point, Eomer King, you do receive extra credit for that."

"By your leave, my lords," Merry put in, "not to boast, but not only did my lady and I bring down the Mumak, we also dispatched the Witch-King and his fell beast." He grinned at his companions. "I insist that be taken into consideration."

Pippin had wiggled his way through the crowds to join the group. He caught the last of the conversation and waved his tankard around. Legolas grinned and filled it for him.

"To Merry!" Pippin cried, raising his glass. "Victor on the field, outscoring all our greatest warriors!" The others clanked glasses and drank.

"To Gimli!" the elf said, raising his glass high, "and the number of Mamukil toes he's chopped!" Gimli choked on that one, and looked with a mixture of fondness and disgust at the elf.

Merry raised his next. "To my White Lady of Rohan! May her life be long and happy!" There was great accord to this and all cups were drained. Legolas filled them again with the Dorwinion.

Pippin quickly raised his again. "Queen Arwen, the Evenstar!"

"I'll make yours, Gimli," Legolas told the dwarf, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder. "To the keeper of Gimli's heart, and the golden hair he wears against his breast."

Gimli actually looked touched at this, and nodded approvingly at the elf. Legolas returned the look with amused fondness. They clinked their glasses together first, then with the others, again, as if they shared some precious secret.

Eomer felt the wine churn in his stomach. The others looked at him expectantly, as Legolas discovered the skin was empty.

"Best get another," he said, grinning at Eomer.

"I'll go," Pippin volunteered. "I'll be quicker in this press."

"Aragorn hid it," Legolas began, but Pippin merely winked at him as he disappeared back through the crowd. Legolas sighed. "Trust a hobbit to find the best wine."

Merry grinned at him. "You can't blame him, Legolas. It's what we're good at. I'm sure there's more than a few skins left."

"I don't know that you need to drink it all at once, though," Gimli put in, fumbling for his pipe. "You made a promise to me and I don't want you blaming the wine for a bad performance, lad."

Legolas laughed outright, smiling like summer sunshine at the dwarf. "You know wine has never put me off my stride," he laughed. Then he turned and winked deliberately at Eomer.

It was too much and the King of Rohan stood up abruptly, knocking into Merry. He barely noticed as he excused himself and headed for the door. He forced himself to smile as well wishers congratulated him as he made his way to the balcony of the hall.

"What was that about?" Merry asked, brushing down the mussed hem of his tunic.

"Not sure," Gimli said, as Pippin returned. He filled the glasses once again, and Merry raised his once more. "To our kings!" he said gleefully.

Gimli took the glass from the elf's hand. "You'll keep your end of the bargain before you drain another flagon, elf." he said.

Eomer stood on the balcony, wishing he could leave the crowd, find comfort in his own room. He was confused once again, and fought down the urge to leave, to find Firefoot, to get his tumultuous emotions back under control. Every time he thought he understood how things stood with the elf, it changed.

It was at this point that Aragorn, distracted by his duties as host, ran into Eomer.

"Congratulations, Eomer," the king of Gondor said, gripping him by the shoulder. "I know I've said it before, but I could not be happier for your sister and for Faramir. They truly seem made for each other. I hope that you will be a frequent visitor in both Gondor and Ithilien."

"I have you to thank for it," Eomer said, trying to push that maddening elf out of his thoughts. "If you hadn't saved her from the Black Breath, none of this would have happened."

The sudden hush from the crowded hall, the muted tones of the musicians and the song, rising in a clear and beautiful voice caught them both, and they turned to the doorway.

"You'll want to hear this, Eomer," Aragorn said, eagerly. "It's Gimli's favourite. He learned it from the elves in Lothlorien and has Legolas sing it every chance he gets."

"I don't speak Sindarin, Aragorn. What's it about?" Eomer asked, almost peevishly.

"It's a love song, of course, but the melody is beautiful." Aragorn was still distracted. "Legolas says it's a bit over the top, and Gimli is a hopeless romantic, but since Gimli loves it so, and Gimli is his soul-friend, he does it."

"Soul-friend?"

Aragorn looked back at him, them back to the room. A second voice had joined Legolas, entwining hers about his in heartrending harmonies. "It's an elvish term. Someone beyond friend, beyond family is a soul-friend. That's Arwen singing with him. Come, Eomer, I insist."

Eomer was in no mood to listen to Legolas singing love songs to the dwarf, but Aragorn dragged him in anyway. They made their way, watching the elves. Arwen held out her hand to Legolas, who smiled as he took it, both grateful for the company of elf-kind in this world of men they had chosen to live in. Eomer looked over at the dwarf, who watched the elf with tears in his eyes, obviously moved by the song. Had it been sung to him, Eomer would have wept himself. It was at that moment that Eomer realized that what he felt for the elf was beyond friendship, beyond desire. He wanted to hear that song sung to him, to hear that voice, that laugh every day. He wanted to wake up tangled in that hair, wanted to see that smile directed at him.

It was directed it at him, although he didn't realize it. Gimli may have forced him to sing this once again, but with Arwen, Legolas was enjoying himself thoroughly. He was tipsy from the wine, he'd be the first to admit it. Looking out across the sea of faces, he saw the one that kept catching him, kept pulling him back to it. Eomer had a distracted, thoughtful look, and Legolas tried to catch his eye. He may have been singing about the pure and chaste love of an ancient elf for his lady, but he felt the warm heat in his belly as he looked at Eomer.

The song ended and Gimli bounded up to hug the elf fiercely. Legolas thought he caught a scowl on the king's face as he bent his head to acknowledge his friends thanks. When he looked up again, Eomer was gone, and the crowd clamored for another.

xxXxx

Eomer threw open the windows to his bedroom, sighed and turned, beginning to strip out of his finery. He'd sent Higa back to the party, preferring to be alone. His head was spinning with drink and despair and desire, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep, hoping that oblivion would take the pain out of his heart, the confusion from his thoughts. Aragorn's words rang in his head, soul-friend, beyond family, and he knew he would never be able to tell the elf of the longing in him, the joy he found in him, how much he wanted to be part of his life. The place he wanted had already been filled by that damned dwarf, and it would have to be enough to live on the edges, to keep the friendship and bury the love.

Kicking off his boots, and stripped down to his breeches, he turned down the lamp and filled the basin with cold water, splashing it on his face, his chest, hoping to cool the burning in his throat, his body. He stood up and turned, reaching for the cloth, when he realized the elf, wineskin slung across his chest, sat on the wide window sill. He dropped the towel in confusion.

Legolas had discarded the heavy robe he'd worn for the ceremonies and wore only the light silk tunic and leggings, that along with the boots, worked in silver embroidery, made up his formal wear. The silk was like gossamer and the nighttime breeze moved it as if were made of cobwebs. He still wore the silver coronet that kept his hair back, and a look of concern mixed with amusement on his face.

"Eomer King, you left before the dancing was done!" the elf said, stretching one long leg across the sill, a crooked grin pulling at his lips. "I thought I would come to check on you. It's not like you to leave before the keg is empty, are you well?"

"Well enough," he stammered, staring at him with wide eyes, his pulse hammering in his temples. "How did you..."

The elf laughed, a merry sound that both warmed and broke the king's heart. He swung himself into the room and unslung the wineskin. "While I admit to being slightly inebriated, I have not had enough to muddle my wits, and realize this night may be hard on you." He made a mock bow, in the manner of men, not elves. "Will you drink with me, Eomer King?" He held up the wineskin. "The best of the Dorwinion, the choicest wine of my homeland!"

"I suppose, although it's heady stuff," Eomer said, bewildered. "Won't they, won't Gimli miss you? He was pretty deep into his cups when I left."

Legolas looked at him quizzically and then shrugged. "I left him in the hobbits care. They'll not notice my absence." He poured carefully into goblets on the table. "Aragorn can help wrestle him into bed tonight, if needs be. After all, I deserve a night to myself once in a while, don't I?" he asked, handing the cup to the man.

"Even though he's your soul-friend?" Eomer asked, before draining his cup. Legolas beamed and refilled it for him.

"Of course!" he laughed. "Where did you learn that term?"

"Aragorn explained it to me," Eomer admitted, his eyes turning away. The laughter cut through him like bitter knifes.

"You asked him?" Legolas questioned, his mouth dry. He took a long drink of the wine, feeling his head start to spin a bit.

"It came up earlier," the man said, "while you were singing with Arwen." He glanced back at the elf, settled in the chair. "I'm a little surprised you're here, after that."

"Why?" Legolas asked, turning the goblet in long fingers.

"It's complicated," Eomer began, taking another sip from the wine.

"Gimli will drink until he passes out, and right now he's telling stories I've heard a hundred times before. I thought that you might be feeling a little melancholy. You need me, he doesn't. I am here to solace you in your momentary despair," Legolas said, smiling. "It's what I do. So it's actually very simple."

"Why do you do that?" Eomer asked loudly, the drink affecting him more than he realized. "I mean, whenever I have a bad day or start to doubt myself you come swinging in and raise me up. Why?"

Legolas looked at him, startled. "Because you need me to," he said gently. "Whether you realize it or not, Mir, you need someone to look after you."

"I think your accent slipped a bit, Legolas," he said, forcing a grin on his face. "You may have had a bit more than you've realized." He tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat.

"I meant what I said, Eomer King. I never did tell you the real meaning of it." The elf took the cup from the man's shaky hand, put it on the table beside his own. "I see I shall have to teach you Sindarin, my friend. _Mir_, a treasure, something valued beyond price." He reached out to cup the man's face with his slender hand. "_Mir nin,_ my treasure," he whispered. "Forgive the deception, please," he asked, looking up with brilliant eyes that didn't quite hide the fear of rejection.

That vulnerability went to Eomer's soul. He pulled the elf up, embracing him fiercely. "Stop apologizing for things!" he thundered, his heart pounding in his chest. "How can you ever think I would turn you away! After everything you've done for me? Don't you understand that you're the best friend I've got? That I..." he broke off, shook his head. "I don't want to hurt you."

Legolas took Eomer's face in his hands, searched the man's eyes for a moment, and then kissed him.

It was not the tender kiss of the night in the stable. It was not the kiss of friendship of the other night. This was hunger, demanding a response, claiming the man. Eomer leaned in and gave himself up to it, eagerly, felt the heat flare in his body as the elf's tongue sought entrance to his mouth, his head swimming. He growled low in his throat and pulled the elf to him, crushing him against his chest. Legolas reached up to undo the thong that held the man's hair in place, and as it fell around his face, Eomer came up for air and pulled himself away.

"I think we've both had a little too much of the good wine, my friend." Eomer said quietly, fighting the constriction in his throat, while his body screamed for him to take the elf into his arms. But there were lines that he would not cross, and the dwarf and his duty stood firmly on this one. "Perhaps you should rejoin the party."

"I wouldn't enjoy it without you," the elf said, honestly. "I'd rather be here with you." He smiled at the man, slow and seductive. "And you'd rather have me here too, I think." He brushed back the hair that had fallen into Eomer's eyes. "Will you deny me?" He wrapped his arms around the man, pulling him into himself, tracing one hand lazily along the king's bare back. The silk of the elf's tunic, soft against his chest, sent new sensations running through him as the elf laughed in delight.

"No," Eomer groaned, and Legolas felt tendrils of ice clutch his stomach. "You can't..." the man began, but the elf, tracing the man's ear, stopped what ever he was going to say with another deep and searching kiss. Eomer fell into the waves of lust that were washing over him and crushed the elf to him.

"I can," Legolas whispered, his breath hot on Eomer's tongue. "I will."

Eomer made an inarticulate moan, pulling back once again, breathing heavily. The elf traced the man's cheek, his eyes brilliant in the starlight. Almost black with desire, Eomer realized that it was for him. Suddenly all his frustration seemed to rise to the top of him, he wanted to push the dwarf from the elf's heart, to defy Eowyn, to take and posses this one perfect creature to his bed, to his heart, into his life. To take back control of the life that had been spinning out of control since Theodred's death.

"Tell me you don't want me and I'll leave right now," Legolas challenged, one hand going to the buttons of his silk tunic. Eomer didn't make past the first one. He shook his head and pulled the elf to him again, embracing him, holding him as if he'd never let him go again. Legolas ran his hands up Eomer's back to hold him closer, pressing himself against the man as if he'd melt right into him. Feeling Eomer's arousal against the inside of his thigh set Legolas afire. He wriggled sensually in response, as Eomer reached up to twine his hands in his hair and kiss him with all the hunger he'd held back for so long. His own need was driving him now, almost painful, fueled by rage-tinged jealousy as much as by love.

"Please, Mir," Legolas whispered. He offered his own throat, gleaming in the lamplight. It was more than the man could stand. With an almost savage need, he kissed the exposed skin, dragging his tongue roughly over the pale flesh. He crashed on waves of desire, fighting for control and loosing the struggle. The soft moans of the elf in his arms did not help. The world shrank to this, the delight of fire coursing along his limbs, the sounds the elf made, the scent of his hair.

Eomer pulled his hands around to pull at the fabric of Legolas' tunic, wanting, needing to feel the skin beneath. He fumbled with buttons, even as the elf's tongue explored the inside of his mouth, his hands loosing the drawstring of the man's breeches. Eomer moaned again, feeling Legolas' chest hitch as he pulled back to catch his breath. In desperation he pulled, hearing the buttons pop off, pushing the fabric back from the elf's shoulders. Legolas laughed, and the sound, what Eomer loved best about the elf, drove all other considerations from his mind.

"By the Valar, Legolas, you are so beautiful when you laugh," he breathed, as the elf shimmied out of his trousers and boots, naked, laughing and outlined in starlight, and the man picked him up and took him to the bed.

xxXxx

The first thing Eomer was conscious of was the pounding in his head. He tried to open one eye, but the sun sent spikes of pain through it, to the back of his brain and he quickly closed it again. The second thing was an unfamiliar weight across his chest. Braving the pain once again, he opened his eyes to find masses of white-blond hair covering him, the elf sleeping soundly on him, his own arms wrapped around the lithe form. He smiled, then winced, then froze.

_Sweet Eru, what have I done! _he thought frantically. _No, no, no!_

The elf stirred in his arms and looked up at him, his eyes bright and clear. "Morning, Mer," he said, grinning broadly.

Eomer managed to make a garbled sound. Legolas looked at him curiously, then understanding dawned on his face. "Hungover?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "Hold on, I'll see if Merry brought breakfast yet," he said, pulling the sheet from the bed and wrapping it around himself.

Eomer's stomach lurched at the thought of food and at the even worse act of betrayal he'd been part of. "No food, Legolas," he mumbled. "Room spinning."

"Coffee," the elf called over his shoulder with a smile. "It'll help."

While the elf rummaged around with the breakfast tray, Eomer lay back on the pillows and frantically tried to think. Would Gimli try to kill him right out? Would the dwarf care if the elf had taken a new lover? Could he share the elf? No, that was unthinkable. Eowyn was going to be furious with him. How could he have let this happen? He groaned again.

"You've got a very good esquire in Merry," Legolas told him, coming back into the bedroom with the tray. "He brought willowbark. That was very thoughtful of him. Here," he said, as Eomer pulled himself up to a sitting position and he handed Eomer a mug. "Drink this first. It'll help with the headache."

"I'm dying, Legolas, there's no help for that," he moaned. Eomer stared at the cheerful elf, who was fixing a mug of coffee for himself and piling scones on a plate. He sipped at the bitter tea while Legolas got himself back into the bed with his breakfast and started eating heartily.

"How..." he began, but the sight of the elf, chewing industriously and trying to grin at the same time shut him up again.

"I grew up on Dorwinion," the elf said, swallowing. "And elves don't get hangovers. There's not even a word for it in Sindarin. I learned all about them with Gimli," he chuckled.

Eomer groaned, and Legolas patted the man's thigh comfortingly. "Drink up. I'll get you some coffee when you're done. I'm just really hungry this morning," he said, with a sly smile. "Merry neglected to bring fried potatoes and bacon this morning."

Eomer turned green and leaning over the side of the bed, found the chamberpot just in time. Legolas, instantly contrite, was beside him, holding the man's hair back as he vomited, murmuring softly in Sindarin. Eomer, embarrassed, rinsed his mouth out with the tea and spat it into the pot, when he realized that the tone of Legolas' voice had changed to a berating one as he got water and cloths for the man.

"Don't blame me," Eomer grumbled. "You're the one with the cast iron constitution."

"I'm not," Legolas said, his eyes furious. "I'm blaming myself. I shouldn't have given you so much. How drunk were you?" he asked, a flash of fear crossing his face.

"Pretty gone," Eomer admitted. "Some things are a little...fuzzy."

"Oh," Legolas said, handing the man a damp cloth. The elf's face became an impassive mask of calm once again. He looked about the room, found his leggings and shrugged into them. Then he sat gently on the side of the bed. "Eomer King, I may have taken advantage of you," he said, seriously.

Remembering the elf panting his name in tones of passion that still had the power to stir his groin, even dying as he was, Eomer started to laugh. It sent shooting pains through his head, and he quickly stopped as the elf lay a cold cloth against his forehead and he closed his eyes again. "I think it was the other way around, Legolas," he said softly. "If I'd been thinking clearly, this never would have happened."

The elf's voice was soft with anger now. "Regrets, Eomer King?" he asked. "Do things look much different in the cold light of day?"

"How can you ask me that?" Eomer retorted. "Of course they do! Eowyn will have kittens if she finds out, and your dwarf..." Eomer trailed off, lost in thought.

_If._ The word rang in Legolas' head. _If._ Cold fury replaced the burning in his chest. He gathered his things quickly, pulling on his boots, wrapping his silver circlet in the torn remains of the silk tunic. "You leave Gimli to me. Since you're so determined to keep this secret, Eomer King, I suggest you wear something high collared for the next few days." He turned from the bed, and using the window, disappeared into the morning.


	13. Fallout

**Fallout**

_An empty room,  
I'm empty too  
And everything reminds me of you  
So many things  
I shouldn't have missed  
The more that I push  
And the more you resist  
It's easy to say it's for the best  
When you want more  
While you leave me with less_

_~ Marianas Trench_

Three days later, Merry sighed as he tapped on the door of the dwarf's room once more.

Gimli opened it and invited the hobbit in, again.

"He's not here, lad," the dwarf said automatically, motioning about. Merry's eyes flickered to the window, and Gimli smiled at him. "But you can leave him a message with me, if you like."

"It's odd, how no one has seen him in days," Merry said loudly, as Gimli rolled his eyes. "Sam was cleaning up after a big fry up this morning, did you know that? Potatoes, onions, mushrooms, delicious. Only him and Frodo, but three plates."

"Must have picked up another one by accident," Gimli said, grinning.

"Sam was bashing things about again, as well. But Frodo seems to be in a good mood. He was grinning like a mad thing." Merry continued.

"Well, now that the wedding excitement is over, I guess people are relaxing," Gimli said, conversationally.

Merry sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "While I appreciate the situation, and how careful everyone's been, Eomer's driving me mad. The message is the same as it was this morning and yesterday afternoon and last night and two days ago. If you see him, would you let him know that Eomer King respectfully asks for a moment of his time, at his convenience." He glanced at the window. "How's his temper?"

"I wouldn't know, Merry, but I'd guess still pretty ferocious." Gimli replied, with a sympathetic pat on the hobbit's shoulder.

Merry sighed again. "I do hope he realizes I'm just the messenger. I miss the old boy."

There was a flurry at the window and the elf dropped into the room. He went and knelt before the hobbit.

"I'm sorry, Merry," he said, looking at him with earnest blue eyes. "I didn't think about what I was doing to you. I didn't want to force you into a lie."

Merry's own eyes went wide in pretended shock. "Why, Legolas! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

The elf laughed and pulled the hobbit into a rough hug, which Merry returned fondly.

"Look, I don't know what's going on between you," Merry said, tapping the side of his nose. Legolas frowned, his dark brows pulling down into such a scowl that Merry hastily amended his comment. "I mean, I'm not blind or stupid. But I am discreet."

The elf relaxed a bit at that. "Thank you, Merry," he said, sitting back on his heels so their eyes were level. He was bursting with questions, none of which his pride would allow him to ask. "I have a reply for you to take back that should keep him from sending you all over Gondor."

xxXxx

"Well?" Eomer asked, a little testily. Merry shut the door behind him and looked longingly over at the plate of pastries on the table. Eomer waved him towards it, and Merry made a great show of picking out just the perfect one.

"I finally found him," Merry said, "and his response is, 'The Crown Prince of Mirkwood sends his regrets that he cannot meet with Eomer King of Rohan anytime in the foreseeable future'." The hobbit took a bite of the pastry, a bit of cream leaking from the side, which he quickly licked.

"What?" Eomer thundered. "That's it? What kind of message it that?"

Merry shrugged, licking cream from his fingertips. "His. He made me repeat it three times. I could try to give it to you with his inflections, I guess, but I won't get the steely eyes or the eyebrows right. And I'd have to stand on a chair to get the commanding height."

Eomer ran his fingers under the high collar of the tunic he wore. "So he won't see me," he mused.

Merry poured ale for them both, handing a tankard to Eomer who took it absently.

"So it appears," Merry said, sipping at his own tankard.

"How is he, Merry?" Eomer asked suddenly turning around to face the placid esquire. "Is he okay? How did he look?"

"Fierce," Merry said, after a moment's thought. "Have you ever met his father?"

"No," Eomer said, thinking back to what Gimli had said of Thranduil, Legolas' own descriptions of his father.

"I think he's about four steps beyond that." Merry said, tapping his nose. "Will you be needing me for anything else, Eomer King?"

_The Crown Prince of Mirkwood._..Eomer thought again. "One more thing, Merry. Where can I find a dictionary? In Sindarin and Westron?"

xxXxx

Eomer hesitated in front of the elf's door, holding the crumpled paper in his hand. He was sure he'd understood the elf's meaning. Of course Legolas had been angry, being summoned like one of his subjects. He hoped he'd found the right opening to get the elf to see him, talk to him. Merry had brought him a giant tome, and it seemed to Eomer that elves used sixteen words where one would do, and had several forms of address, and it had taken him most of the afternoon to decided on what he wanted.

The dwarf opened the door a crack, and grimaced as he saw the man, standing there forlornly.

"Well, lad?" the dwarf asked, trying for distaste in his voice, but only managing to keep the sympathy out of it.

"Is he here?" Eomer asked, looking down at the dwarf. "I have something to say to him."

Gimli opened the door and let the man into the room. The elf's weapons were gone, Eomer noticed, and a single mug of ale stood on the little press. "He's out doing elf things again. I can give him a message when he gets back if you like," he said, shaking his head.

"How's your Sindarin?" Eomer asked.

xxXxx

"_Goheno nin. Peditham hi sui vellyn_?" the elf asked, his eyes narrowing. "Your accent is barbaric, Gimli."

"And you sound like you've a mouth full of gravel when you try to curse in Khuzdul," Gimli shrugged. "Here," he handed over a scrap of paper. "He wrote it down, so he wouldn't forget, he said. I think he understood your message," the dwarf continued, with a slight grin.

"_Forgive me, can we talk_," Legolas translated. He flopped down on the bed, stretching out his legs. "Or I could just sneak up and kill him."

"You owe him something, don't you think?" Gimli asked, nonplussed. He'd heard so many plans on how the elf was going to disembowel the man that he no longer took it seriously.

"Me!" Legolas said, sitting bolt upright again. "I owe him? Have you lost your mind?"

"He did pass your little test," Gimli said, nodding at the scrap of paper. "He even got the wee dots right."

"Gimli," Legolas began, in a dark voice, but the dwarf held up his hand.

"You can't just kill the king of Rohan. Aragorn would be very displeased with you. And you did fill the lad full of that demon drink before you threw yourself at him."

"It wasn't like that," Legolas said, while a small voice whispered that the dwarf was right, it had been exactly like that.

"Since you couldn't be patient, now you have to pick up the pieces. I expect nothing less from you, Legolas. Something went wrong, and unless you want to leave a trail of Rohan royalty baying for your blood, you'd better do something to fix it."

"I hate it when you're right, you know," the elf said, taking a deep breath.

"And leave the knives here, lad," Gimli finished.

xxXxx

Eomer brooded in his chair, nursing the ale, waiting until the long shadows turned to dusk and night filled the room. Sighing, he picked up his tankard, and took it with him to the bedroom, opening the door, trying not to think about what had happened in there three short nights ago. He'd wrecked his life, that's what had happened. He sighed and took up the candle, lighting it.

"Well?" the elf asked, sitting in the darkness. "You wanted to talk?"

Eomer dropped the candle, setting it rolling across the rug. He stamped on it, while the elf sighed and lit the lamp.

"Why can't you use the door like everyone else?" Eomer asked him, almost savagely.

"You made it very clear that you don't want anyone to know about this. Don't worry, no one saw me." Legolas sat back in the chair, almost lounging in it. "So, talk."

"I wanted to apologize." Eomer said, picking up the candlestick. "I've ruined both our lives."

"Really? How?" the elf drawled, crossing one long leg over the other and watching the man with keen eyes. "Was it when you decided I was your dirty little secret that had to be kept from everyone?"

"That's not what I meant at all! Is that what you thought?" Eomer snapped. "I was trying to protect you."

"From your sister?" Legolas asked, raising a brow and waving his hand. "Do you really think she'll kill me to make way for your wife and hordes of flaxen children?"

"Don't do this, Legolas," Eomer said quietly. "I want to try and fix this..this..."

"Mistake, I think, is the word _you_ want," the elf said. "Me, now, I prefer betrayal."

Eomer laughed, a short, bitter bark. "Oh, yes, you're a fine one to cry betrayal! You and your soul-friend! Did you tell him all about it, then?"

"Why?" Legolas asked, and then he reeled as he realized the truth. "Sweet Eru! You think he's my lover as well?"

Eomer felt a tingle of something like relief and a lot of something like anger build up in him as the elf started to laugh. "Gimli!" Legolas choked out. "You actually thought that he and I...!" He continued to laugh, setting Eomer's already simmering temper to a boil.

"How was I supposed to know?" Eomer roared. "It's always Gimli this and Gimli that! Where he goes, I go! One little bed does for you both!"

"For sleeping in, yes!" Legolas laughed even harder.

"This is not funny, Legolas!" Eomer yelled. "Do you know what you put me through?"

That brought the elf up short. "Put _you_ through?" he asked, his eyes glittering dangerously. "You mean that you thought I was involved with the dwarf and took me to bed anyway?"

"You didn't seem to mind," Eomer said, narrowing his eyes. "And I was drunk, and angry, and you were _very_ available."

"So that's to be the excuse, then?" Legolas asked, his voice going suddenly quiet again. "I didn't think you were that kind of man, Eomer."

"I'm not!" he roared. "I've been hating myself for three days because of it! Why didn't you just tell me?"

"It never occurred to me that I had to!" Legolas yelled back. "I wouldn't have had to, not with another elf!"

"I'm not an elf! I'm not a dwarf, I'm just a man, who's very confused by the whole thing, and you haven't been honest with me either."

"I have been completely honest with you! Gimli is my soul-friend. Let me explain it to you properly. Gimli is part of me. He always will be. We love each other, yes, but not romantically. Gimli's heart is given elsewhere. I will die for him without thinking. I trust him completely. In fact, he's the reason I haven't carved your heart out yet."

Eomer blinked at that, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Ai, that surprises you, does it?" Legolas continued. "He has given me good counsel through everything, and I didn't listen, I got impatient, and I misunderstood your feelings for me. I mistook lust for love, and that is my fault."

"But, it was love.." Eomer began quietly, but the elf cut him off again.

"No, love would not have tried to shame me, hurt me like that. Admit it was just a one time thing, and we shall go our separate ways, Eomer." The elf's eyes were bright in the lamplight, his voice as cold as the stars outside. "I thought you loved me as I love you. I was wrong. That's my mistake, not yours, so you needn't feel guilty about it. I've betrayed no one but myself, so you needn't feel badly about that either."

"If you're quite finished?" Eomer asked sarcastically. "I've got something to add to all this noble sacrifice you're making."

"Please, go ahead," the elf said, a sardonic smile playing on his lips.

"I've been going through hell thinking you were with the dwarf. I was falling in love with you, more and more every day, knowing it was wrong, knowing I could never have you. Do you have any idea what that's like? Not only that, but he fills the place in your heart that I want. I want to be everything to you, lover, comrade, companion. And I can never be, because he's already there. It's pulling me apart."

"Have you never had a friend that was beyond a friend, beyond brother?" the elf asked him, raising an eyebrow.

"My cousin, Theodred," Eomer said shortly, then stopped. Legolas waited, patiently, nodding. "I think I understand what you're saying, Legolas, but I'm selfish. I want you all to myself."

The elf looked at him, head tilted. "Do you think my heart so small, that there is room for only one? Were Theodred still alive, would you be unable to love me, for the love you bear him?"

"That's not the same at all!" Eomer protested.

"It is." Legolas insisted. "I've just got a name for it and you don't."

Eomer opened his mouth to object and then shut it again.

"Gimli is a part of my life. He will always be there with me, Eomer, and I am better for him. He has been a great help to me these past few months. And yes, he does know about you, and has helped me to keep myself under control, since elves can become a bit...unstable when they fall in love. So, you, Eomer, can either accept that or you can say goodbye to me right now." Legolas kept his voice steady.

"So with Gimli no longer a problem, where do we go from here?" Eomer asked, quietly.

"Gimli was never the problem." Legolas shook his head. "Your first thought was for Eowyn. She'll never be happy with this."

"It's just about the succession, Legolas. She needs time."

"She doesn't like me, Eomer. Face up to it. She never will when she finds out about us."

"Will there be an us to find out about?" Eomer asked cautiously.

"I guess that's up to you. Will you tell her?" the elf asked back.

Eomer sighed and put his head in his hands. "It's not that easy, Legolas. Would you take me to Mirkwood and introduce me to your father?"

The elf crossed his arms across his chest. "When do you want to leave?"

"You're serious about that?" Eomer said, stunned, looking up. "You really would."

"I'll write him tonight, if you like," the elf said. "But not if this is not going to work. Just make up your mind, Eomer, and tell me what you need."

"I need you..." Eomer trailed off. The elf had to stop himself from leaping out of the chair, crushing the man with his body, kissing the breath out of him. But that was the behavior that had started this mess, and he was going to have to be very careful.

"Mir nin," he whispered. "You have to be honest with me. I don't know what you're thinking."

"I'm thinking," Eomer said, pushing his hair back, "that life has become very complicated. By the Valar, Legolas, I love you. Not just for now or next month but for always. You are the sword at my back I can always trust, the joy in my life." He looked down at his hands again. "But I can't lose my sister as well."

"And I can't run around in a clandestine love affair," the elf said. "No matter what you thought three days ago."

"I said I was sorry about that," Eomer told him. "But what do we do now? Tell me what you're thinking."

"You've always intrigued me, Eomer King," Legolas replied. "From the first time I tried to kill you." Then he stopped, and shook his head, a wry smile on his face. The lamplight danced in his eyes. "I must tell this without joking or foolishness. I admired your spirit, your intensity. The more I got to know you, the more I liked you. I valued your friendship. When Eowyn was hurt," and he flinched at the pain that fluttered across Eomer's face, "it hurt me to see you mourn. I wanted to help you, to see you as you had been, big and full of life."

"You were so kind, that night," Eomer said quietly. "I've never forgotten that."

"Neither have I," Legolas said. "After everything was over, Frodo's victory, Aragorn's coronation, well, I found myself seeking you out. I knew when the sorrow and loss were upon you and I wanted to help. If you only knew of the machinations I went through to try and cheer you! It seemed as if I would do anything to make you happy. I didn't understand why until you left Gondor. Aragorn was busy with his new life, and Gimli was supervising building repairs and renovations in the city. I was restless, fidgety. I couldn't sleep, I'd just toss and turn all night. I couldn't get you out of my head. I honestly thought about coming to Rohan on some excuse just to see how you were. I missed you, without knowing why.

"When you came back with Eowyn, for her wedding, I could breathe again. You were happy, although sad to lose your sister. You were yourself. Everything was right in the world again. That's when I realized what had happened. I'd fallen in love with you. That night, when you held me, on the bench, do you remember that? I was so confused and so full of sorrow and joy all at the same time. You thought I was homesick. I was, but for you. I began to hope that you might feel the same way about me, and I honestly believed you did, or I would never have offered myself to you."

Eomer left the bed, knelt before his lover, reached out to stroke the elf's neck, caress the skin behind the pointed ear. "I do, I feel the same way. I never wanted you just for a night, I want you for always. Not only this," and he touched the elf's lips gently, "but this," and he brushed the elf's temple, "and this." He rested his hand over Legolas' chest, feeling his heart pounding through the fabric. "I thought I'd ruined your relationship with Gimli with my own selfishness, I wanted to take you from him, I don't know what I was thinking, except that I never wanted to hurt you. Ever."

Legolas looked deep into the man's eyes. "You did, but I'll forgive you this time." He kissed Eomer gently. "If you ever do it again, I will cut you to ribbons," he whispered softly. "I have my pride. But Eowyn must be dealt with. I don't know how to fix things with her and I hate that I come between you. I'd rather leave you now than do that."

"I'm going to Ithilien with her in two days." Eomer confessed. "I wasn't going to, but then you disappeared, and, well, the plans are all set now. I'll tell her then, once she's settled in her new home."

The elf raised an eyebrow. "You don't want me to come along? We could tell her together."

Eomer shook his head. "No, you're right, I need to tell her this myself. I can make her see reason. Because I can't lose you. The past three days have taught me that." Eomer crushed the elf to him, resting his cheek against the white gold hair. For a moment he was breathless, speechless, consumed with joy. His heart thundered in his chest, pounding in the elf's ear. Then he released him. Legolas looked up at him, hope flickering with doubt in the summer sky eyes. He backed away a bit, suddenly uncertain, nervous amidst all the truth he'd spoken. It lay about them like tiny slivers of glass ready to cut either one.

He stood up. "Should I go?" he asked softly. "Do you want some time to think about things?"

Eomer reached out and gently turned the elf's chin to look at his eyes. Legolas gazed into the hazel depths, heart pounding at the question he saw there. Eomer pulled the bent head down to slowly, softly kiss the slightly parted lips of the elf. Legolas forced himself to hold back his desire, to let the love he felt answer Eomer's eyes. Tenderly, he reached out to run his hand through the man's tangled hair, sighing as Eomer pulled away. He looked back, his gaze steady, watching for any sign of fear or distress in Eomer. What he saw was certainty.

"I love you, Legolas. With all that's in me," the man said. The elf kissed him again, hungrily, ferociously, making demands that Eomer's body was eager to reciprocate.

Battling the storm rising in him, Eomer pulled back from the elf. Legolas looked at him levelly. "Bed?" he whispered, raising an eyebrow.

"Not yet," Eomer answered gruffly. Licking his lips, he breathed in, holding it for a second. Then he slowly undid the clasps at the collar of the elf's tunic. Gently, he tugged the garment over Legolas' head, tossing it aside. The elf wriggled again in delight.

"Wait," he told the man. He quickly untied his braids and shook out his hair. It fell, long and loose below his shoulders. Then he kicked off his boots. He looked at Eomer, eyes half lidded and with laughter in his voice. "Am I suitably disheveled for your plans?" he asked.

Eomer caught his breath. "Sweet Eru, you are beautiful," he moaned. "Your laugh is like spring water running over stones." He reached out to stop the hand that Legolas had placed on the fastening of his breeches. "Let me kiss you again," he said.

He did, and Legolas leaned into him as though he would fall to the floor, taking the man with him. Eomer wrapped strong arms around him and held them both up. His calloused hands ran over the smooth skin on the elf's back. Legolas started tugging at Eomer's buttons again. Impatience finally got the better of him, and he snapped them right off, pushing Eomer's shirt back, allowing his fingertips to trace patters in the deliciously coarse hair. Eomer started to protest, pulling away from the elf's demanding mouth.

"You're lucky I didn't use my teeth," Legolas told him, pulling the shirt from his shoulders. "Do you have any idea how sexy all this hair is?" he asked, his hands running over Eomer's flat stomach. He bent his head to lick at an old scar on the man's shoulder. Eomer groaned again, pulling the elf's face back up to him.

"Legolas, love," he said, through gritted teeth, "you are not making this easy."

"I thought I was, Mir," the elf said, with a mock pout. He looked into Eomer's eyes, saw the depth of feeling there, the love fighting the need, and the quip on his lips died away. He understood, finally, what it was the man needed. This was not the half drunken frenzy of their first night, fueled by lust and liquor, this would be a total and complete joining of soul. He surrendered himself to that need. All his pride was swept away in that moment and he buried his face in Eomer's neck.

"Flame of my night," he whispered softly, his very voice a caress. "I can only give you love. Will it be enough?"

Eomer's knees buckled at the mercurial mood change. They fell into the chair, knocking it over, tumbling to the floor. Eomer never loosed his grip on the elf, even as the lithe body landed on him.

"I'll always catch you," he whispered into the elf's hair. "Fall into me, always."

"You won't turn me away again?" he asked, hating himself for the question. "Swear it!"

"I'll never do it again, love. I'll always be here for you. Always," Eomer declared fiercely.

"Everything you want me to be, need me to be," Legolas began.

"Yourself. Only that." Eomer told him. "I love the joy of you, the song of your soul. Forever, it's only you that I want."

"Mir," Legolas whispered, so overwhelmed by the mix of elation and terror in his soul that it drove desire away momentarily. He raised himself up on his elbow, his long hair falling to one side, shadowing Eomer's face. He looked into the dark eyes, frightened suddenly at the total acceptance he found there, the depth of Eomer's love. He felt more naked than he ever had in his life.

Eomer reached up to gently brush back the hair that fell and pooled on his shoulder. He met the elf's gaze and smiled. "I'll have no secrets from you," he told him softly. "You'll have all of me. I'll do all I can to make you happy. It won't be enough, but I promise I'll never stop trying." He traced the elf's cheekbone with the back of his hand. "Is it enough?"

"Your happiness is my joy," Legolas whispered again, bending down to kiss the man softly. It was tender and loving and took the breath from Eomer. It was surrender and victory and made him dizzy. He pulled the elf's head down, caressing the tumbled locks, his other hand tracing lazy patterns on the soft ivory skin of the elf's back. He kissed him again, feeling the desire, but not the overwhelming urgency of the first night. They had all the time in the world. It was only when the cramp in his hip made him realize that he'd fallen one one of Legolas' boots, that he moved, rolling over, taking the elf with him.

"Come to bed," he whispered, licking the elf's ear. "Let me show you all the joy you give me." Legolas did not need to be asked twice.

Tangled sheets, tendrils of fire along his chest.

"Flame of my night, water of my soul", Legolas whispered softly. The elf's long hair spilled across them both, silver in the moonlight.

The taste of him, he couldn't get enough. The absolute smoothness of the skin, no scars to mar it's perfection.

"Song of my heart" he whispered, long fingers running along his thigh.

He was so rough, so strangely different, he wanted to learn each scar, every nuance.

"Desire of all my days," Legolas said, caressing him. Had happiness always had the faint aroma of leather and horses?

"Legolas, love," Eomer said, fascinated by his otherness. He pulled up again, stopping to trace the delicate features. "I could drown in you."

"I never knew, Mir," Legolas said, "I never knew it could be like this, that anyone..."

Gentle and unhurried, wide blue eyes in the starlight. Hot breath on his tongue. Velvet in his hands.

"Look at me," Eomer whispered. "I want to see your eyes,"

The moment hung there, forever.

"I want...want..."

"What, love? I'll give you anything you want."

"More."


	14. Set Fire To The Rain

**Set Fire To The Rain**

_My hands, they're strong  
But my knees were far too weak,  
To stand in your arms  
Without falling to your feet_

_But there's a side to you_  
_That I never knew, never knew_

_~ Adele_

This was bliss, Eomer decided the next morning. He'd woken, later than usual, with no panic, no guilt, no hangover and tangled in the starlight of the elf's hair. Legolas had rolled over sometime during the night, and lay on his side, nestled into the man. Eomer propped himself up on one elbow and gazed at the perfection of the elf's face, completely at peace, with a small smile tugging at his lips. He couldn't resist the urge to kiss the elf on the top of the head, knowing that he was allowed, no, he had the right and privilege to do so. There was something about the elf in his sleep that made Eomer feel very protective of him, and knowing that the elf was more than capable of taking care of himself, it made him grin.

Legolas murmured something unintelligible in Sindarin, and the man pushed back the hair from his face, taking the opportunity to place another kiss on the sleeping elf.

There was a discreet knock at the bedroom door, and Merry's soft voice called, "Eomer King?" Eomer looked around for his trousers, shrugged, pulled the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around him like a robe. There was a mumble of protest from the elf, who dragged the sheet around himself, the loss of warmth waking him.

Merry stood there, a sly grin on his face, and a twinkle in his eyes. He looked at the tousled King and gave his message as if the King lay abed late every day, instead of waking at dawn and being down to check on Firefoot by this time of the morning. The room was tidied and Merry's livery impeccable.

"You've overslept, Eomer King," he said blandly, "I brought breakfast over two hours ago, and my Lady is looking for you."

Eomer grinned back at the hobbit. "Would you take my regards to my sister and tell her I'll be with her later this morning?" he asked.

"More like early this afternoon," Merry remarked, glancing at the sun streaming in the windows. "Do you want fresh coffee? What I brought will probably be cold."

"Potatoes!" came a muffled call from the bed. Merry raised an eyebrow to check with the King, as unruffled as if random orders for food came from Eomer's bedmates on a regular basis.

Eomer shook his head. "I'm sure what we have will be fine, Merry."

"I'll bring more coffee though, he's a mess without it," the hobbit said, with a small nod toward the bed. He smiled again, and winked as he buffeted the king on the arm.

"Scamp," Eomer grinned, ruffling the hobbits curly hair.

"What is it with you and potatoes?" Eomer asked, throwing the blanket back over the elf and shrugging into his trousers, which he found thrown over the back of the chair. He brought the breakfast tray in, being careful not to trip on the elf's boots, and put it on the table.

"I can't seem to help it," Legolas said, sitting up, pushing his hair back, and reaching out eagerly for the coffee Eomer was pouring for him. "It's not something we had a lot in Mirkwood."

"The coffee's not hot," the man told him.

"Don't care," the elf muttered. "Very thirsty this morning." He blinked in the bright summer sun. "How late is it?"

"Don't care," Eomer said back with a grin, handing over the mug. ""We're having a proper breakfast today."

"Good," Legolas said, draining it in one go and holding it back out. "More, please."

Eomer laughed outright and refilled the mug. "You really are turning into a hobbit, aren't you, love?"

Legolas grinned at him over the rim. "Hobbits are sensible people. I'm going to miss them."

"Me too," Eomer sighed, fixing a plate for the elf. He handed it over to him and smiled. "What are your plans for the day?"

"Oh, I'm going to go back to sleep," Legolas told him, setting his coffee on the end table and balancing the plate on his lap. "I don't have anywhere I need to be. Maybe I'll have a bath sent up."

"Do you want me to let Gimli know where you are?" Eomer asked, a little awkwardly, after a few moments of silent chewing.

The elf laughed. "I think he'll work it out for himself." He looked over with soft eyes. "But thank you, anyway." Then he grinned again, his wicked little one sided grin. "I could hold off on the bath until you get back," he said, innocently taking a bite of his breakfast.

Eomer nearly choked. "Wasn't last night enough for you?" he asked, feeling a bit smug.

"Of you? Never!" Legolas said, swallowing. "Why do you think I'm planning on going back to sleep?"

Eomer sighed. "Wish I could join you for a nap," he said, finishing his own breakfast.

There was a commotion in the outer room, and they heard Pip's distinct voice rising in almost a yell, "I'll just check on him, my Lady, he may not be dressed!"

They looked at each other and Legolas started to giggle. Eomer tried to hush him, which just made the elf laugh more.

"Nonsense, Pip," Eowyn said, in clear tones. "Just put the tray down over there, Merry. Why is he drinking so much coffee anyway? That's not like him." She banged on the bedroom door. "Eomer? Are you decent?"

"No, you're not," Legolas giggled, as Eomer, wide eyed, shook his head. They both looked at the open window, drapes fluttering in the breeze.

"We could make it," Eomer whispered, a lopsided grin taking over the look of shock. The elf just pulled his head down and kissed him gently.

"We've been caught, Mir!" he whispered back. "Will she challenge me for your honour?" The twinkle in his eyes set Eomer to chuckling himself.

"Eomer? Are you alright?" Eowyn called again. "Were you drinking all night again? Are you sick?"

"Be right out, Eowyn," he called back, trying to stifle the elf, who was almost wheezing now.

"I'll stick a pillow over your head," he warned, as Legolas tried to school his features into something like calm.

"We could hide under the bed," the elf suggested with a snicker.

"Stop it!" Eomer laughed.

"Quick, give me my pants at least," Legolas howled, hair falling in his face. "To protect my modesty!"

Eowyn opened the door, to see her brother putting a plate on the breakfast tray and the elf sitting on the bed, holding a mug. She took in the disarray of the room, the clothes strewn about, and her eyes went wide.

"Eomer? What's going on?" She eyed the elf on the bed. "Valar above! Legolas?"

"Good morning, Eowyn. Would you like coffee?" the elf asked, his eyes dancing.

"Here you are, my Lady," Merry said, appearing beside her and handing her a cup of wine. She took it gratefully, downing it.

"Thanks, Merry," she said. "Legolas, what are you doing in here?"

"It's not what it looks like, Lady," he said, overcome by laughter again. "Isn't that what I say?" he asked Eomer.

"No, it's exactly what it looks like," Eomer said, shooting a despairing look at the elf. "What do you expect when you come barging into a man's bedroom, Eowyn? Wait for us outside, please, sister," he said, his voice a plea.

"Come, Lady, have another glass of wine," Merry said, taking her by the hand.

"What is wrong with you, you lunatic?" Eomer asked Legolas, tugging on his clothes as the elf got himself under control.

"I'm sorry, Mir, but the look on your face, and then her face," he said. "And I'm very nervous all of a sudden."

"So much for breaking it to her gently," Eomer sighed. "I hope Merry hid the knives." They left the bedroom, slightly disheveled, although the elf had run a comb through his hair and pulled on his boots. Eomer, still barefoot, sat across from his sister while Legolas refilled his coffee mug. He winked at Merry behind the man's back, getting an answering grin in reply.

"This really is none of my business," Eowyn began, embarrassed, but Eomer stopped her, taking her hands in his. Merry nodded at Pip, and they disappeared into the bedroom, quickly tidying up and stripping the bed for the laundress.

"It is, Eowyn, since it means your children will be my heirs." Eomer said gently. "I didn't want to do that to you, but I love him."

"But why, I mean, you promised me, no affairs with the elf," she glanced up, "I mean, with Legolas."

"Thank you," the elf said softly.

"It's not an affair," Eomer told her seriously. "It's much more than that."

"And it's very sudden," she continued.

"So was Faramir," Eomer pointed out. "But this is just as real as your love for him." Legolas moved away towards the window, looking out at the clouds, thinking that some rain would be good for the earth, wanting to give the siblings some privacy.

"You know I only want you to be happy, Eomer," she told him. "But it's going to take a me a little getting used to. I knew about the other men, of course, but somehow in the end I still thought you'd settle down with a woman. Since there was that girl in your teens as well. And Uncle was always going on about family duty."

"Other men?" Legolas asked, turning from the window, his brow raising.

"That's not important right now," Eomer said over his shoulder to his lover.

"I think it might be," Legolas said, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. "Other men?" He gripped the mug in his hands so tightly it broke. Pippin, alerted by the broken crockery, took one look at the elf's face and bolted out the door, running to the conference room where he'd left Faramir with Gimli and Aragorn.

"Eowyn, would you take Merry and leave us?" Eomer asked, all his attention on the elf. "We can finish this later.."

"Legolas, it isn't what you think," Eowyn began, putting down her cup and standing up.

"Eowyn!" Eomer said, in a harsh voice, startled by the brittle brilliance of the elf's eyes. "Legolas and I need to talk. Now. Please."

She planted her feet firmly. The woman who faced down the Witch-King was not afraid of any elf. "Listen..."

"Please, my Lady," Legolas said, in a voice like ice, that matched his eyes. "This is a private matter between Eomer King and myself."

"Go, Eowyn," Eomer said, his voice just as cold. She turned around and stalked out the door.

"Gimli, I think the elf needs you!" Pip panted breathlessly, as the men stared at him. The hobbit rested his hands on his thighs, bent over. "He's got that look again!"

The dwarf was running before Pip finished his sentence. Faramir and Aragorn started to follow, but Pippin held up his hand. "Let Gimli handle it," he said, as Faramir poured him a glass of water.

The crashing of crockery came from behind the door as Gimli bashed his way in. Legolas was advancing on Eomer, his voice low, accusing. Eomer backed away, trying to explain, as they circled each other.

"Right then, lad, you come with me," Gimli told Legolas, marching up and pulling on his arm.

"Not now, dwarf," the elf snarled at him, shaking him off like a spider.

"Now!" Gimli ordered, in a quiet voice. "Before you do something you regret."

"Like breaking his faithless neck?" the elf said menacingly.

"No, like making me angry," Gimli said, calmly. "Eomer, he'll be back to discuss this rationally later on." He shook his head at the elf. "Now, move, laddie. Before I put my boot in your arse."

Muttering, Legolas left the room. Breathing deeply, Eomer sat down, face in his hands.


	15. As I Am

**As I Am**

_I'm not looking for perfection, I'm not offering a saint  
I'm not looking for a pretty bird to put in some restraint  
The only thing I want is that you love me if you can  
And I only ask you take me, you take me as I am  
_

_Don't take me out of duty, don't take me out of pride  
Just take me if the man you see is one you'd stand beside  
I'm offering an open heart, I'm asking for your hand  
And I only ask you take me, you take me as I am _

_~ Heather Dale_

"Laddie, you're going to be the death of me," Gimli muttered as he marched the elf back to the little attic room. "What was that all about, then?"

"He...I can't...Gimli, he's had other lovers! He's cheated on me!"

"Between last night and this morning?" Gimli clucked, shutting the door behind them. "Now, sit, and tell me what's going on."

The elf glared at the dwarf, but sat, cross-legged on the bed. "He's had others, Gimli. Hordes of them. He's not mine, I've taken him from someone else!"

"Hordes?" the dwarf asked, pouring ale for the elf, giving him the tankard. The elf drank, gratefully.

"Well, maybe not hordes, but that's not the point." Legolas shuddered. "I'm the worst creature in Arda! I've slept with someone else's mate!"

"Why can't you ever do things the easy way?" Gimli protested. "He's not an elf, Legolas. You can't expect him to live by standards his culture doesn't have."

"Oh yes I can," the elf said darkly, his eyes flickering to his weapons in the corner.

"No, you can't." Gimli said. "And stop looking for solutions to every problem in your quiver!"

"No, this is definitely knife work," the elf said, taking another drink. "Much more personal."

"By Aule, have you two ever even had a proper conversation about this?" Gimli demanded.

"Since I didn't realize he was going to betray me in the first week, no, I can't say we have."

"Men don't stay celibate all their lives, you, you, elf, you! It's not the same for them." He held up a hand to forestall the elf's question. "Don't ask me why, I don't know. They just don't. So he's done nothing wrong, since he's done nothing but fawn over you since he met you."

xxXxx

Eomer, his fury turning to cold rage, cleaned himself up, got dressed properly, tied his hair back, and walked very purposefully to the Steward's apartments. He banged peremptorily on the door, until Pip answered, a worried look on his face.

"It's me," he said, striding in. Eowyn had been pacing back and forth in the receiving rooms, worrying the sleeves of her blue gown, all thoughts of packing for Ithilien forgotten in this new crisis with her brother. She rushed up to him and took him by the hands.

"Eomer, are you alright? Did anything happen?" she asked, her bright blue eyes full of concern.

He looked at her sternly, his voice tightly controlled. "Eowyn, the next time you come into my bedchamber without an invitation, I shall not be so considerate of your feelings. We are not children, and you can respect my need for privacy as I do yours." He nodded at Faramir, who nodded back, ready to intervene to defend his wife, if necessary. He didn't think it would be, though.

"But what happened this morning, Eomer," she began, but he cut her off again, waving away the glass of wine Merry offered him.

"Is private. Listen, Eowyn, I love you so very much, but you were completely out of line today. He's already nervous as a cat around you, and this kind of thing is not going to make it better."

"So it's all about him, now?" she asked, a tinge of hurt in her voice.

He laughed bitterly. "No, believe it or not, it's about me right now. That's the other reason for my visit. Faramir," he called to his brother-in-law, "have you some sort of book about elves? Someone must have figured out how to deal with them and written it down."

"You got along much better with him when you were just friends," Eowyn pointed out.

"Eowyn, please!" her brother said. "I understand him, it's where he comes from I'm having trouble with."

"You might be able to find what you're looking for in the library," Faramir interjected, with a pleading look at his wife. "Pip and I will bring what we can find to your rooms. It'll be quicker for me to get them, I know what I'm looking for." He herded the hobbits out of the room ahead of him, leaving the siblings to finish what they obviously needed to say in private.

"Are you still coming with us?" Eowyn asked, turning away from her brother to sit in a plush chair by the window.

"I don't know." Eomer answered honestly. "It will depend on him, I think."

"You might want to consider returning to Rohan," she said, looking out at the sky. "It does need it's King, after all."

"Eowyn," he said, still in control of himself. "I don't want this to come between us."

"I think it has already," she told him, with a wave of dismissal. "Let me know what you decide."

xxXxx

He read the passage twice, then put the book down with the others in the pile Faramir had brought him, and went to look out the window. The sun was setting, the sky brilliant with reds and purples. He barely noticed them, lost in the dawning realization that what, for him, had been a pleasant diversion, a few months of blissful infatuation, was, in the elven culture the worst act of betrayal possible.

xxXxx

"He's off on Arod, lad," Gimli told him with a smile. "If he wants to be found, you'll find him."

"Thank you, Gimli," Eomer said, pleasantly surprised that the dwarf wasn't acting as if he were the worst person in the world.

"Can I give you a bit of advice, Eomer?" Gimli asked quietly.

"I'd appreciate it," Eomer said, sincerely.

"He fell in love with a man. Don't go trying to make yourself into a second rate elf for him, lad."

"Thanks again," Eomer said.

xxXxx

Arod nickered as Legolas spied the man, riding Firefoot hard, heading right for them. He felt a chill and then another burst of hot rage as he thought of the long lecture Gimli had put him through that morning. His skin prickled, and not from the chill of the twilight breezes that were blowing his hair about.

"Legolas!" Eomer called as he dismounted, tucking the reins up to let Firefoot graze. "I need to know what I'm doing. Am I going to Ithilien with Eowyn as planned or am I staying in Gondor with you?"

"I don't care!" Legolas snarled, his voice low. "I should kill you! You've broken my heart and made me an adulterer!" His eyes were pitiful, a mix of accusation and despair.

"It's not adultery!" Eomer said loudly, feeling his own temper start to rise. "I'm not going to apologize for something I had no idea I was doing."

"Of course not! You don't care! But tell me, Eomer King, how can I live with the shame?" The elf's voice took on an almost hysterical tone.

"It's not adultery!" Eomer repeated, as he tried to grab the shaking elf, but Legolas darted out of his grasp. "It can't be, because I've never been married!" Eomer tried again, but the elf froze.

"Did you have to gather a harem instead? One would have been bad enough..." The elf turned away from him, stroking his own throat absently, trying to quell the pain inside.

"I would have told you earlier, if I thought that it mattered," Eomer said, reining in his own temper at the elf's obvious distress.

"Mattered? Of course it mattered! I'm an elf, it matters," he spat the word as if were poison, "a great deal!"

"Listen, Legolas," Eomer said, settling in the long grass, "I can count the elves I know on one hand. Look," and he held up his right hand, balled into a fist. "You." He extended his index finger. "Arwen." He held up the next finger. "That's it. And it's not exactly something that comes up often at the dinner table or diplomatic functions. How was I supposed to know?"

"You could have asked," the elf said, bitterly.

"If you remember, I thought you were living with the dwarf. It would have been rather awkward." Eomer replied, raising an eyebrow.

"That's true." Legolas sighed, as if he hated to give Eomer even that much credit. "That should have tipped me off," he continued, his face darkening. "So this is my fault as well," he said with regret.

"It's no one's fault," Eomer pointed out. "It's a misunderstanding."

Legolas snorted.

"It's done, Legolas," Eomer said gently. "I can't change it. I can't fix it. What I need to know is if you can live with it."

"It's killing me," Legolas admitted, a hitch in his voice, sitting gracefully beside him. He ran his hand over his sleeve, again and again, smoothing the already smooth fabric. "Why didn't you wait for me?"

"I didn't know you were coming," Eomer said honestly. The hurt in the elf's voice ripped at his heart. "I would have if I'd known," he added softly.

"I can't get it out of my head!" Legolas suddenly yelled in frustration. "I keep hearing those things you whispered to me in the dark, but you're saying them to someone else, touching someone else." His voice took on a harsh edge. "And you are mine, Mir! Mine!"

"I've never said those things to anyone else, love," Eomer said, reaching out to take the elf's hand, and recoiling as Legolas flinched away from his touch. They both stared away from each other for a few moments, Eomer's heart beating fast and loud.

"I know, here," Legolas said, touching his forehead, "that you've not done anything wrong. You are not elf-kind and it's wrong of me to expect you to act like one of us. But it hurts, Mir, it's like I'm on fire and I can't get myself under control. I'm angry that someone else out there has memories that should belong to me alone!" He paused. "Does that make any sense to you?"

Eomer nodded, mute, allowing the elf to continue.

"I don't know what to do," he said, standing again and starting to pace. "Part of me wants to kill you, another part wants to crawl away in shame and die, another part wants to leave this place and still another part wants to just be in your arms. And yet another part," his voice dropped to a whisper, "is wondering if you'll get tired of me, too. That you'll feel that you've made a mistake, being with me."

Eomer jumped up and grabbed the elf by the shoulders. "Listen to me, love," he said, moving his head so Legolas was forced to look at him. "The past is the past, but the future, forever, is you. Always." Legolas closed his eyes, disturbed by the depth of feeling in the hazel eyes of the man. Eomer pulled the elf in so that their foreheads were touching. "I have had sex before, yes, but I have never made love with anyone but you. That is the truth. The only truth."

Legolas opened his eyes, looked up, puzzled. "But they are the same..." he began, but Eomer took his lover's face in his hands, his brow creased with emotion.

"For elf-kind, yes. Not for men. It can be many different things for us. But with you, last night, Legolas, it was all love and only love. It's never been that with anyone else. Can you understand that?"

The elf pressed his lips together in a thin line, his eyes narrowing. Eomer let go of him, sighed, rummaged in his belt pouch, pulled something out.

"I am yours, yes. But you are also mine. I brought you this." He held his fist out. The elf, puzzled, reached out, his hand flat below the man's. Eomer opened his hand, and Legolas stared at the plain silver ring.

"Mine, love. You don't have to accept it if you don't want to. But I wanted you to know that I understand now." Eomer said, his voice gruff with emotion.

The elf regarded him, seriously, eyes wide, reflecting the starlight above them.

"Maybe you should take some time to think about things." Eomer told him.

"You'll go to Ithilien, then?" Legolas asked, his voice a whisper.

"No, Eowyn and I had a row." Eomer told him. The elf groaned. "I"m going back to Edoras. Whenever you and Gimli are ready, come on home."


	16. Waking Up In Vegas

**Waking Up In Vegas**

_Don't be a baby_  
_ Remember what you told me_

_Shut up and put your money where your mouth is_  
_ That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_  
_ Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now_  
_ That's what you get for waking up in Vegas_

_~ Katy Perry_

He ran, hair streaming behind him, long strides eating up the ground beneath him. The white horse paced him, enjoying the exercise. Arod felt the conflict within the elf, and with the good sense given to all horses, knew running was a good thing.

Legolas cursed in three different languages as he followed his feet. His boots pounded on the plains as he cursed the lack of trees in this benighted southland, as he cursed himself for his own stupidity, as he cursed the fate that had brought him out of the Mirkwood, put that fascinating, infuriating man in his path.

The air was heavier today, moist with the last humidity of summer, and he hoped for a storm. Torrents of rain and thunder and lightning to match the state of his soul, to wash away the guilt. But he knew he'd have to get Arod under cover before that, which meant a return to the White City, and Eomer.

If, he thought frantically, if only Eomer had been an elf. He'd have known instantly. He now realized that he'd been the only one able to read the change in Arwen's face, that certain something in her eyes, the slight alteration in her voice. Elves had it built into them, they just knew. Why couldn't it have been the same for men? It would have saved a lot of trouble in the world, that much he was sure of.

But if Eomer had been an elf, he wouldn't have been Eomer. That intensity, just below the skin. That passion for life, for love. Even now he craved the feel of the man's hands on him in the dark, the whispered promises, that joy of having him. It mingled with the hot knives of jealousy that stabbed in his gut and turned all to pain.

He cursed all those who had dared to touch what was his, by right, by custom, and the rage danced in the corners of his mind, frenzied suggestions on how easy it would be to hunt them down and make them pay for this, those men, who were so pitifully easy to kill. He cursed the rage and tried to fight it down yet again.

He had stopped cursing Eomer.

He cursed himself again for being seven kinds of idiot. Gimli had been right, Gimli was always right when it came to dealing with the other races, and he cursed that he hadn't listened. Why have such a wise and valued friend if he wouldn't listen to him?

There was nothing left for Gimli to say, though. This whole mess had been precipitated by him alone. He had lost his balance, fallen headlong into his own desires and found that he was in no way as agile emotionally as he was physically.

It hurt. He couldn't stop it. And it was all his own fault. He wanted to believe, to know that he was the only one in Eomer's life now. With all his heart he wanted to turn the page, to be able to say it didn't matter, as men did, as his own head told him was true. Eomer did love him and he had to reconcile himself to what had happened in the man's life before he met him. Pretend it didn't touch him until he believed the lie himself. He couldn't.

He didn't know how to.

The silver ring in his pouch weighed as much as if it had been made of lead. He couldn't bring himself to wear it.

He wanted to, had wanted to slip it on immediately, take it as a new beginning. But the memory of the rage that had consumed him had frightened him. On one hand he had everything he'd ever wanted, but the other hand had ripped away what was precious and pure and his, and he was not prepared to share that. For a single moment, he had wanted to kill Eomer, actually kill him, and bury the shame. But in this Eomer was innocent.

Gimli had been right, in his interminable lecture, they hadn't discussed the important things. Legolas sped up a bit, Arod chasing him, as he realized that an hour's worth of conversation would have prevented it all. He'd even told Eomer that he voluntarily lived outside the elven culture. Had he asked about Eomer's? No, he'd blithely assumed all men were like Aragorn. Aragorn, that paragon of virtue, so kind and loving even when he'd had to destroy Eowyn's dreams.

He groaned and started cursing again. He'd also caused a rift between brother and sister that he had no idea how to fix. The parting, when Faramir and Eowyn had left for Ithilien, was publicly cordial, but from where he'd been standing, on the edge of the dignitaries, he'd felt the chill between them. It was right after that he'd gone for Arod and started running.

Arod nickered, and the elf checked himself, slowing to look out over the rise of the gentle hill. The white rider and his glorious mount were unmistakable. Arod nickered at him again, and Legolas gave a wry grin, nodding at the horse, as they changed direction to intercept them.

"Well met, Legolas!" Gandalf called. "What are you chasing out here?"

"Absolution," Legolas replied, his voice breaking.

xxXxx

It was a only an hour or so before the late summer dawn when the storm finally broke. The heavy thunder rattled shutters and the rain pelted down in fat and heavy drops. Lighting danced across the sky in dangerously beautiful arcs. A particularly loud crash woke Eomer, who realized his windows, left open to allow any hint of a breeze in the oppressive night air, were banging. He sat up groggily, debating if he should close them and save damage to the curtains or lay still, enjoying the storm and the breaking of the stickiness, when he realized the elf was there, dripping, on the sill.

"Legolas?" he asked, pushing the hair back from his face. "What are you doing?"

The elf sat curled up on himself, watching the storm. A lightning strike showed the rainwater running from his hair onto his boots.

"You're soaked!" Eomer said, coming completely awake.

"I'm fine," the elf replied, turning to look at him, another flash washing the colour from his eyes.

"What have you been doing?" the man asked him gently.

"I've been watching you sleep," Legolas admitted. "And I've been thinking."

"About?" Eomer asked.

"I need to ask your forgiveness. I wasn't, I haven't been myself. I've blamed you for things that weren't your fault." He searched the man's face with pain filled eyes. "I lost control of myself."

"We both made mistakes," Eomer said, "there should be no blame between us, love."

"We're taught, you know, to guard our hearts from childhood," Legolas told him, his voice low, his gaze turning back to the storm raging outside. "It's a very serious thing, we're told, falling in love. Elves don't flirt, don't play at being attached. When it happens, when we meet the one, it changes us, we're told. The act of love, it's the same as a marriage, with us."

"I know that now," Eomer said, getting out of the bed, and pulling on his trousers. "Dry off, while you talk. You're going to catch your death of cold."

"I never thought to guard myself with you. I never thought it necessary. I never thought about falling in love with you until I was in the middle of it," Legolas continued, shaking his head, sending droplets falling around him. "When you fall in love with an elf, you take it for granted that person has been equally careful. It never occurred to me that it would be different with men. I was so happy that you wanted me, that you were showing it. I took it as encouragement. How could I have been so blind?"

"And I had no idea that my past would affect you so much," Eomer admitted, getting a towel from the press. "We both made assumptions, Legolas."

"Among elves, I couldn't hold my head up. What I've done, in my culture, is despicable. I've bedded a man who already had a partner, and worse, caused you to commit adultery."

"But in my culture, it's not adultery," Eomer interjected, pulling the elf gently into the room. Undoing the elf's braids and rubbing his head with the towel, he continued. "And we are living in my culture right now. We've done nothing wrong. I keep telling you that."

"I know that. But I don't _feel _that way," the elf protested.

"How do you feel?"

"Guilty, Mir. So terribly guilty. And afraid, since this usually doesn't work out well, second marriages with elves, I mean. But all the anger, fear, it's nothing next to the guilt. Because I should have talked to you about it first. I didn't even tell you the implications, that I would be yours , that we would be bound together forever."

"I want you to be mine forever," Eomer said, pushing the elf into the chair and tugging off the wet boots. "It's not a second marriage at all. I had no partner to betray or abandon. I've never made that commitment to anyone else. I told you, you have all of me. No one else does or ever has. The only partner I have or want is you."

"And you gave me this," Legolas said, almost in a trance, holding out his right hand, the silver ring on his index finger. "How can this work, how can I love you so much when we are so different?"

"I love you because you're different," Eomer said, getting another towel. "I love you because of your joy, your laughter. I love your insight, your way of looking at things. Take off your kit," he motioned, holding out the towel as the elf stared at him. "You're dripping on the carpets."

Legolas raised an eyebrow at him. "The carpets?"

Eomer held up both hands. "I'm feeling a cold coming on just looking at you." Legolas gave him a wary smile and quickly stripped down, drying off.

"I don't get sick," he said, as Eomer wrapped him in the blanket. Then he sighed. "I suppose it's too early for coffee."

"That's the elf I married." Eomer said with a grin, sitting the cocooned elf on the bed and tucking his feet under the folds of the blanket.

Legolas started, looking down at Eomer. "Would you have? If you'd known?"

"If you would have had me, after my disgraceful past, yes." Eomer said, with a teasing glint in his eye. Then he straightened up and became serious again. "If I had known, love, I would have never put you in this predicament." He sighed. "We rushed right in, without thinking. When you fall in love, I guess, you just think everything will be perfect, all sunshine and roses. You don't stop to think about what could happen."

"You! It was me!" the elf sputtered, but Eomer held up his hand to interrupt him.

"Listen," he said, sitting beside Legolas. "I love you. We're married. It's a little sudden, but I get that. In a way, it's a relief, to know that you loved me, trusted me, enough for that." He folded his hands together, dropping them between his knees, his brow creased. "What I don't know is how to be married to an elf. I mean, I want to be married to you, don't misunderstand me. I don't want to go blundering in and making even more of a mess than we have already. You need time to deal with all this. I don't know what I can do to help you get over the hurt."

Legolas nodded slowly. "I think I understand what you're saying."

"I need to know if you trust me, now." Eomer glanced at the elf, then back down at his hands. "I hate that you feel this way about yourself, about us, about me. But I hate even more that this could destroy us before we even get a chance at a life together. I don't want to feel that you're just waiting for me to betray you, because that's not going to happen. Ever."

Legolas shook his head. "I think I trust you more than I trust myself right now." Eomer let out a shuddering sigh of relief. Legolas reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Eomer's arm. "I don't know what to do."

Eomer covered the elf's hand with his own, and looked at him with damp eyes. "So we'll figure this out together. Tell me what you want."

"No, Mir," Legolas told him, with a tight smile. "You tell me. How do I go about being married to a man? If things were normal, what would be doing now?"

Eomer raised a brow suggestively, and Legolas sighed. "Not that," he said, "I mean, suppose you had married Higa instead of me."

"He's not my type," Eomer protested, but Legolas shot him a black look. "Alright, I'll be serious." he said. "Well, we'd head back to the Mark. We'd have a week or two of spending time together, just us. And lots of drinking." He smiled at the elf. "Gimli would like that part."

"I'm sure he will." Legolas replied.

"But we can't just pretend this never happened." Eomer said, practically. "What I would like is for you and Gimli to come and spend the winter in Rohan with me. I want the chance to court you properly, see if we can fix this together. We can take all the time we need. If you need to be away from me, I can understand that, and Gimli is still chomping at the bit to see the caves."

Legolas nodded. "That sounds much better than me sweeping into Edoras and killing everyone who smiles at you."

Eomer looked for a grin on the elf's face. It wasn't there. He swallowed.

"No killing anyone," he said. "You need to come and talk to me when you start to feel like that."

"Alright," Legolas agreed, forcing down the red that blurred his vision at the thought of running into one of Eomer's previous lovers. "I promise."

"And one other thing," Eomer said, a dark look crossing his face. "You and Gimli, you'll have your own room, of course. But," and his eyes were agates, hard as stone, "separate beds. If you can't sleep with me, you sleep alone." Legolas tensed. "I'm only human after all," Eomer told him. "And you are mine!"

"We've been through this before," Legolas said, a spark of temper flying.

"Listen to me, love," Eomer said through gritted teeth. "I'm trying to be as considerate as I can here. We both have to make concessions. I'm not asking you to come back to my bed until you want to. And the thought of you curled around the dwarf for warmth because you don't want me is more than I can take!"

"Mir, I do want you..." Legolas began, but Eomer cut him off, his tone harsh.

"Not like this, not with this pain between us. Either we come together with joy or we wait. I can't have it any other way."


	17. Tonight

A/N: I'd really like to thank everyone who has stuck with this story, and apologize for the delay in getting this out. Nanowrimo and all. But I have a request of you. I'm always looking for songs for these two. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!

**Tonight**

_How did we get here?  
Did we forget all the things inside?  
And how do we stay here?  
Do we embrace all the things denied?  
_

_~ Seether_

Four days later, accompanied by Gandalf and the hobbits on the first leg of their journey back to the Shire, Eomer's group of riders, including Legolas and Gimli, were still two full days from Edoras. Eomer was getting worried. At their current pace, they might make it in a week. Legolas seemed as serene as he had ever been, laughing with the hobbits, walking beside Arod as the patient horse carried the dwarf, occasionally shooting that brilliant smile at Eomer, the one that made his eyes light up and made Eomer's insides catch fire. For the millionth time, the King of Rohan wondered if this had been the best idea.

Because if Eomer had ever sat down and imagined his honeymoon, it really wouldn't have looked like this. Merry was a decent rider, at least having learned the basics on the pony Theoden had given him. But Pip, Sam and Frodo had spent little time riding on their own at all. With sore muscles and protests, they made camp early, stopped several times for meals and slowed the cortege down to a crawl. He was on the pony trek from hell.

There was no privacy on this trip, with the hobbits riding here there and everywhere, Sam taking directions from Pip and Merry as they went, Frodo smiling at his gardener's distracted demeanour. The ponies were trying to keep up with the bigger horses, leading to them tiring themselves out. Shadowfax, and the man was still in awe that Gandalf actually rode one of the Mearas, looked on the ponies with a fond sort of amusement, and Firefoot was on his best behaviour when around Gandalf's mount. Otherwise, Eomer was sure that his big horse would have picked up on his rider's frustration and nipped one of the ponies as it cantered by, a nervous hobbit on its back.

So instead of riding with his elf at his side, talking and laughing, he was herding hobbits. When Legolas made a joke and Eomer wanted to reach out and push back the white-blond hair that flew in the breeze and pull him in for a quick kiss, the dwarf was muttering about saddle sores. At night he lay in his tent, looking up at the heavy canvas and wondering if every tiny sound was the elf. Then he laughed at himself, for he'd never hear the elf coming. And Legolas had not come.

So he was surprised that night when the tent flap was pulled back, and Legolas' head appeared. "Mir? Are you busy?" he asked, in a quiet voice.

_Mir,_ thought Eomer joyfully, not that polite and ever present, _Eomer King._ "Not at all, love!" he exclaimed heartily. "Come in!"

The elf slipped in and sat gracefully, cross-legged on the ground. He looked carefully at the man's face.

"You're not happy, Mir," he said. "Even the horses are getting worried." His eyes darted about nervously. "I'm worried."

Eomer let out a long sigh and then laughed. "I thought I was hiding it well," he said, his eyes drinking in the sight of the elf, the way the lamplight flickered over his hair, the slight look of mischief that suddenly filled the blue eyes.

"Firefoot is only managing to behave due to our honoured guest." A slight smile twisted the elf's lip. "You both need a break." He took a deep breath and held it for a moment, then let it out and looked at Eomer. "Come with me, the both of you."

Eomer raised an eyebrow. "Now?" he asked.

The elf leaned back, his hands flat on the ground behind him, and stretched. "It's a beautiful night, and the stars are out, Mir," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Let's go and see them."

"I'll get dressed," Eomer said, getting up.

"I'll get Firefoot and meet you outside. Don't bring all the armour, you won't need it."

When Eomer ducked out of his tent, Legolas was whispering to the big grey. He wasn't saddled, only his blanket thrown over his back, and the elf had tied a rope halter on him. Eomer tilted his head, raising a brow. Legolas put his finger to his lips to shush him and shook his head. Eomer rolled his eyes and nodded and they silently made their way to the edge of the camp.

Once they were at the bottom the rise, Legolas grinned at Eomer. "Don't worry, I told Higa where we were going. He'll keep our secrets."

"Are we walking all the way?" Eomer asked, with a laugh in his voice.

"Don't be foolish," Legolas said, shaking his head with a smile. He bent and interlocked his fingers to give the man a boost onto Firefoot. Eomer settled himself and Legolas passed him the rein, tied to the halter. Eomer reached down a hand to help the elf up, but Legolas grinned up at him, and gave the horse a friendly slap on the flank.

"We're running," he called, as he sprinted off in front of them.

Eomer laughed, and urged Firefoot on. The big horse needed no encouragement, after days of placidly walking and dodging ponies, and sped ahead to catch up with the elf. Eomer made to check him, but Legolas waved him on, speeding up himself, his eyes wild and a huge smile across his fine boned face. They ran for a while, elf and man and horse, feeling the tension of the past days leaving them, their cares spinning away and up into the star filled sky.

Eomer realized they were running for the river, and about half way there, Legolas still in front, turned and pulled a stunt Eomer had heard about from his wide eyed riders, but had never quite actually credited, until the elf was seated behind him, wrapping his arms around Eomer's waist and Firefoot hadn't missed a step.

"How did you manage that?" he asked, as the elf leaned into his back.

"I'll show you some time," Legolas laughed into his ear. "By the Valar, it's good to be out at night! Look at the sky, Mir," he exclaimed.

Alone and away out on the plains, the sky glowed in starlight, not a single cloud to obstruct their beauty. It bathed the land in ethereal light, making the grasslands glimmer and shine.

At the river itself, Eomer slipped off Firefoot's halter, and the horse nuzzled him, batting into his chest. Eomer ruffled his mane, and then pulled the blanket off, leaving the stallion to his own devices. The big horse took a few jaunty steps and headed for the bank to get a drink. A splash distracted Eomer from the horse's antics to the elf's.

Legolas was a white shape in the dark water of the river, swimming out with strong strokes, his bright head breaking the surface, laughing at the surprise on Eomer's face. The joyfulness in the sound of it made Eomer's soul lift. He threw the horse blanket over his shoulder and made his way to where Legolas' boots and clothes lay in a pile in the green on the bank. Calmly he shook out the blanket, arranged it to his satisfaction, kicked off his boots, stripped out of his clothes, and jumped in himself.

It was colder than he expected, and he sputtered a bit when he surfaced, but Legolas had swum back in closer, out of the current in the middle, and was gently treading water not far away. Eomer shook the hair out of his eyes and swam over to the elf, his elf, whose eyes danced in the starlight with more life and happiness than Eomer had seen in days. While the elf frolicked like a dolphin in the cold water, Eomer flipped to his back and floated, feeling as if every care were being washed away by the river, by the love of the elf. He was content, and opened his eyes to the night sky. The stars filled his vision, and, caught by their wonder, feeling weightless, it was almost an unreal experience.

"Legolas," he said softly, "stop that and do this instead." The elf flicked water at him, and he started, sank a bit. "Don't elves float?" he asked with a trace of sarcasm, regaining his balance.

"Of course we do," Legolas protested, swimming over to him and folding his arms across the man's chest, sinking him completely. "What is it?" he asked innocently, as Eomer came up sputtering.

"You have to do this," Eomer told him gently. "It's like nothing else in the world. You'll see, just try it."

Legolas had done this, many times over the years, in rivers and lakes far, far from here, but he was touched that Eomer wanted to share the beauty of it with him. He flipped to his back and silently watched with Eomer, reaching out to take the man's hand and hold it. Eomer squeezed it in reply, and they remained silent, drinking in the night.

They floated in to the bank, and reluctantly left the river, scrabbling up the bank to the blanket and their things. The warm night breeze dried them as they sat on the blanket and Legolas pointed out all the different constellations to Eomer, insisting on giving them their proper Sindarin names. Eomer looked more at the elf than the stars and thought that nothing could ever touch the light in the elf's eyes as he described them. It was far more beautiful to him than the sky. Once they were dry they dressed again and Legolas, reaching into his belt pouch, pulled out his ubiquitous comb. Eomer laughed, shaking his own hair back out of his eyes.

"Do you go anywhere without that?" he teased.

"You never know," Legolas shrugged, pulling gently at the tangles.

"Here, let me," Eomer said, reaching for the comb. Legolas looked at him from under the curtain of his hair, and froze. Eomer shrugged, adding, "It's not like I don't know how to. There aren't even any burrs in there this time."

Legolas' mind raced through the now familiar litany. _Has he done this with anyone else? This is mine! Forget that, this is now and before does not matter. Before you does not matter._ He pushed down the fire, took a deep breath and steadied himself back to calmness. He handed the comb to the man and shifted so he was sitting, cross-legged in front of him. He looked out over the river and shivered as Eomer ran his hands through the masses of his hair before starting to separate and untangle.

"I love your hair," Eomer almost whispered. "I used to help Eowyn with hers, you know, after Mother died, but Malwyn said I was too rough with her, she wasn't a horse's tail." He laughed a bit at the memory, bittersweet. "And the brush would make it fly about and stick to everything, her face, my hands. But yours is like you, soft as silk but strong as steel."

Legolas unconsciously relaxed at his words, his muscles releasing their tenseness. Eomer felt it and smiled, glad that he'd been able to subtly answer the question the elf wouldn't allow himself to ask. If they could only be alone for a while, he thought desperately, they'd be able to get through this.

"Will you ever tell me how you got the burrs in the first place?" Eomer asked him, lingering over his task.

"Valar, no!" Legolas exclaimed, the tips of his ears turning pink. Eomer chuckled at the sight. "It's too embarrassing, Mir. Maybe someday," he added, with a tinge of promise in his voice. "But not yet."

"Then tell me something else," Eomer continued, changing the subject. "I have a question about elves. This," he waved his hand over the elf's head, and Legolas turned to look at him, curiosity filling his eyes, "is mine, as you say?"

"No, my hair is mine," Legolas told him, his face shifting to confusion. Eomer stared at him, and then the elf grinned. "But you are the only one I'll allow to touch it now."

Eomer sighed and blew his own hair back out of his eyes. "Are there special customs or anything that I need to know about this?" he asked. "I'm serious, love, stop laughing at me."

"It's hair, Mir," Leoglas said, and pulled the man's head down and quickly kissed him. He had to. Eomer was trying so hard, it lifted all the darkness from him and made his heart sing. Eomer, surprised, leaned into it for a moment, the pulled away.

"I thought we agreed," he began, but the elf turned to face him.

"Listen to me, Mir nin," he said, his voice quiet, "I understand that you have very strong feelings about this. But if you think that I'm not going to kiss you when you try so hard and make me so happy, well..." he trailed off. "I love you. I'm going to kiss you. Get used to it."

Eomer flared. "You can't just change the rules..." he began, his hands shaking.

"Rules?" Legolas asked, still in that quiet voice, raising an eyebrow. "Did you find a rule book for our situation? I'd love to see it, Mir. Because I'd love to know how I'm supposed to do this!" He stood up and pulled the man to him. "Do you know why I brought you out here tonight?" He didn't wait for an answer, gazing into Eomer's dark eyes, reaching up to smooth the creases in his brow. "Because you have been screaming under your skin for days! I can feel it! And I thought if we just had a chance to be us, to just relax together for a bit, it would help."

"It did. It does," Eomer said, taking the elf by the shoulders. "Do you have any idea how much I miss you?"

"I'm with you every day, Mir," Legolas said, his voice softening. "I watch you try to keep everything bottled up, and that's not you. You're tauter than a bow string." He cupped the man's face in his hands. "I"m worried."

Eomer snorted and pulled away. "You'd never know it to watch you. You flit about, calm and serene, cooking potatoes with Sam. I'm wondering how much you're keeping down."

Legolas took a breath, counted to three, let it out. "I'm trying, Mir. This isn't your problem, it's mine."

"No, it's ours," Eomer corrected. "And I feel like I've been left out of the solution."

"You took yourself out of it," Legolas pointed out. "You decided to kick me out of your bed," his voice got harder, "it's our bed, Mir! And that just feeds the monster inside that insists that you don't want me anymore...that I'm just another..." he broke off and turned away.

Eomer reached out and pulled him to his chest, crushing him to him. "That's never been it, and you know it!" he said, his voice ragged. "I don't want to make this worse! Why didn't you tell me this?"

"Why didn't you ask?" Legolas shot back, his arms wrapping around the man's back. "I can't do this by myself. I'm trying, Mir, and, Eru, it's so hard sometimes! I need to be with you, I need to be back in our bed. I trust you, but you have to trust me, too. You have to trust me to get over this, and I need to be able to touch you without you flinching, without you keeping your distance from me to do it. I have to be able to go to you anytime I need you."

"You've always been able to..." Eomer began, but then stopped. He thought for a moment, going over the past days in his mind. "No, you're right. I've been treating you like you were made of spun glass. So worried I'd break you that I was afraid to go near you. That wasn't fair, and I'm sorry."

"Nothing about this is fair," Legolas muttered into his lover's hair. "But I can't fix this alone."

"And you aren't alone, and I'm going to ask you so many questions you'll wish you were alone." Eomer said, kissing the tip of the elf's ear. "Our first plan didn't work, that's all. Time to change strategies."

"Thank you," Legolas breathed. "I needed this."

"So did I," Eomer said, pulling back enough to give the elf a tender kiss. Legolas tangled his hands in the man's hair and returned it, soft and loving. They got Firefoot and headed back to the camp.

Gandalf, enjoying a solitary smoke on the top of the rise, watched them ride back into camp and disappear into Eomer's tent. If anyone thought he held off waking everyone up longer than usual, they chalked it up to the hobbits, not the King and the elf, who were curled up together, enjoying the first real sleep they'd had in days.


	18. Home

**Home**

_Settle down, it'll all be clear  
Don't pay no mind to the demons  
They fill you with fear  
The trouble—it might drag you down  
If you get lost, you can always be found_

_Just know you're not alone_  
_'Cause I'm gonna make this place your home_

_~ Phillip Phillips_

Edoras. Wild, rocky, wind-swept Edoras had never seemed more blessed to Eomer as the company finally rode through its gates. His head was filled with plans and lists of all he had to do before the winter set in. The harvest had to be brought in and tallied, a season of rationing would have to be put in place to make sure his people survived the cold season ahead. Housing for all would have to be found. The herds would have to be gathered, a careful slaughter of the cattle considered, plans for the midwinter feast to be gone over.

Malwyn, his and Eowyn's old nurse and mother substitute, now the Chatelaine of Meduseld greeted him on the steps of the Golden Hall. Her dark, grey streaked hair blew about her care worn face, but her dark eyes twinkled with merriment and she tilted her head and studied the new king.

"Well, Eomer King," she said, looking intently at him. "What mischief have you gotten yourself into now?"

He embraced her quickly and looked about him. "A quiet word in your ear, Mal?" he asked, grinning like the boy he'd once been. "After we get settled in?"

"Of course, lad," she said. "I didn't realize we'd have guests, so I'll just set up a room for the hobbits." She grinned at the four, Merry made her a little bow. "And get the cooks working on a few more dishes for dinner."

"Always good to see you, Malwyn," Merry said, winking. Frodo nudged him, and he smiled broadly. "Forgive me, Lady Malwyn," he emphasized.

She laughed and greeted Gandalf, the dwarf and the slightly distracted elf behind him. "I'll have a room prepared for you, my lords," she told them. "We've just breached a fresh keg, Master Gimli."

"Ah, my Lady, my gratitude at your hospitality knows no bounds." He took her hand and gallantly kissed it. "Would it be too much to presume that there might be some of that wonderful pork with the mushroom sauce you served last time..."

"Don't do it, Malwyn, you'll never get rid of him," Merry said, grinning.

She laughed and led them into the Hall while Eothain, after embracing Eomer and greeting Higa, asked for a few moments to give his reports. Legolas lagged behind the others, gave Eomer a quick smile and turned around, following the grooms to stable the horses.

Once Arod was settled, Firefoot spoken quietly to and there was nothing left to be done, Legolas sat on a bale and gave himself over to thought. He and Eomer had spent the past days in some kind of normalcy, speaking easily of things that needed to be done before the brutal Rohirric winter set in. He was finding his feet again, finding it easier to fight down the fires of jealousy. Nights curled up together in Eomer's tent, waking with the man's hair in his face or the proof of his desire against his back. Eomer had kissed him tenderly one morning, when he thought the elf was still asleep, and Legolas had startled him by returning it.

Then they reached the city and he found himself thinking that somewhere in this crush of people was someone who had been with Eomer. He pushed that down again, knowing he would never know who it was. It was better that way, he told himself. He didn't trust himself to know who it was. Even so, he told himself once again that it didn't matter any more. Eomer loved him, was his. He nodded silently to himself, stood up, and went off looking for someone to ask for directions.

xxXxx

"Let me see if I've got this right, my lad," Malwyn said, as she flipped the sheet expertly on the bed in the King's Chamber. Eomer lounged against the wall, arms folded, grinning down at her. "You've gone and eloped with the Crown Prince of Muckwood..."

"Mirkwood," Eomer corrected, his grin getting even wider.

"Pardon me, Mirkwood," she continued, tucking in the corners, "without even knowing you were doing it?" She looked up at him.

Eomer nodded. She shrugged.

"Seems a little careless, lad. But, the heart wants what it wants. Can't fault you there. What's the trouble?"

"He has a problem with my life before. It seems elves only, well, you know," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Are you playing shy? With me?" She took the blanket and gave it an indignant twitch. "I've known everything you've done since you were a child. Alright, the elves save themselves for marriage. Nothing wrong with that."

"No, they save themselves because it is marriage," he corrected. Malwyn took in the implications of that instantly. Her eyes went wide and then she shook her head.

"I take it he's a little sensitive right now?" she asked. "You being married several times over and all?" Eomer sighed, blowing the hair out of his eyes.

"That's one way to put it," he said. He sat down on the side of the bed and told her all that had happened, Legolas' rage, his sorrow, Eowyn's anger, his own helplessness to fix any of it. When he was done, he let out a long sigh and she held him for a few moments, silently, as if he were the boy again, missing his mother.

"And with all that, you can't give him up?" she asked, looking at him keenly. He jerked back as if he'd been slapped.

"No!" he roared. "Never! How can you ask me that?"

"To see your reaction, lad," she soothed, reaching out to push his hair back from his face. "Done is done, and you've just got to make the best of it." She looked around the room. "You know, we've not done anything in here since your uncle passed," she told him quietly. "You might want to make some changes, clear out some of his things. I've been meaning to get some new tapestries up in here before the cold sets in."

Eomer raised an eyebrow at her and then grinned. "Thanks, Mal."

xxXxx

Legolas returned from his errand in the town and found Gimli with Gandalf, sharing a quiet pipe. He joined them with a silent nod, looking out over the plains that were now his home. He turned with an almost palpable longing in the direction of Fangorn, aching to see a proper forest again. Eomer came up and interrupted his brooding with a cheerful hello.

"There you are!" Eomer said happily. "I've been looking for you all over. I've got another question for you."

Legolas flickered him a small smile and said, "Of course. What is it?"

"What's the proper term of address for your father?"

"Call him Ada," Gimli said, taking the pipe from his mouth and laughing.

"Don't call him Ada," Legolas said, glaring at the dwarf. "I don't even call him Ada. Why, Eomer, what are you doing?"

"I'm sending him a letter," Eomer told him, with a smile. "Gandalf has agreed to see it delivered. I supposed you were sending him one, so I thought I would too."

The old wizard nodded, a twinkle in those blue eyes, so young compared to the rest of his weathered face.

"Would you excuse us, please?" the elf said, taking Eomer by the arm and dragging him away.

"I'm sending word to my father," Gimli told Gandalf. "I want to know if they hear the screams from Mirkwood in Erebor."

"What do you mean you're writing to Father?" Legolas asked. "I thought we were working things out, not making them worse."

"Your father," Eomer said, with a rueful smile. "Is he really as terrifying as Gimli insists?"

The elf's eyes held a glimmer of mischief. "He's actually worse. But only if you're related to him."

"So I should wear armour at the ceremony, then?" Eomer asked, an answering twinkle in his own hazel eyes.

Legolas checked his pacing and stared at the man. "What?" he asked, incredulity written all over his face.

"We are going to invite him to the wedding, aren't we?" Eomer asked seriously. "I mean, he's not only your father, he's the king of your people. It's only right. How long will it take him to get here? We can plan it for spring, I guess, since there will be so much to get ready."

"Slow down, Mir," the elf said, his eyes wide. "I mean, you were frustrated enough with all the planning at Eowyn's wedding," and he stopped, cursing himself at the flash of pain that filled Eomer's eyes at the mention of his sister. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he apologized immediately, reaching out to grip the man's arm. "But please, tell me you haven't been infected with Arwen's madness."

"Don't you want some sort of celebration?" Eomer asked. "After all, you are the Prince of Mirkwood, and you're going to be my consort."

"Actually, you're going to be my consort," Legolas retorted, a quick flash of something in his eyes, Eomer couldn't quite place it.

"Fine, we'll be consorts together. So what's wrong?"

Legolas sighed. "You're going to think it's ridiculous."

Eomer reached out to brush back the elf's hair, pointless in the wind, but it made him feel better. "Tell me anyway," he said.

"I don't want a wedding. We've already had one. And even if we did, I don't want my father there. Not yet."

"What are you talking about?" Eomer asked, confused. "I get the bit about the wedding, but what about your father."

"This, us, it's all so fragile." Legolas went on, looking deep into Eomer's eyes. "Thranduil has fixed ideas about certain things. Very fixed. You have no idea how proud, how stubborn, how dangerous he can be. _And he kills so easily_." The words slipped from the elf before he could stop them. His eyes widened in horror. "I don't know why I said that, Mir," he said quietly.

"I do," Eomer said darkly. "Come with me." He led the elf to the King's Chambers. Once he'd shut the door firmly behind them, he pointed at the bed and said, "Sit down, Legolas." The elf sat, worry in his face like gathering storm clouds.

"Look," Eomer said, exasperated. "Your father is not going to kill me. You think that he's going to sense that I've hurt you, that I'm not the best choice for you, that I'm going to ruin your life. You don't want him here, then we don't invite him. I know you're young, and I'm young, too. We didn't ask for his permission or approval. He's going to be furious with both of us. I understand. But listen to me well, love. I am King in Rohan. I have married you, and you are Prince Consort here. I regret nothing I've done since I met you. Do you get that?" The elf nodded silently. "I may well be your consort in Mirkwood, but we aren't there. Stop borrowing trouble, we've got enough of our own. I am going to write to your father, one king to another. I'll even let you read the letter before I send it. When things are more settled, then we'll talk about visits and such. But you are mine and not your father or anyone else is going to come between us. And what are you grinning about?" he stormed.

"You sound just like him," Legolas said with a chuckle.

Eomer rubbed his forehead. "You are going to be the death of me," he said. "Some days I feel like I can't keep up with your mind."

"Some days I can't either," Legolas told him, getting up and wrapping his arms around him. "But thank you. I needed to hear that."

"Stop distracting me," Eomer grumbled, returning the embrace and kissing the top of the elf's head. "I can't believe you think I'd let your father kill me. You, maybe. But not him."

"I don't want to kill you today, if that helps," Legolas said, laughter in his voice. "It's been a few days at least since I've thought about it."

"Good, because I need your help with something." Eomer said, with a wry grin. "You may think it beneath your dignity, though."

"Now I'm curious. What is it?"

"This," Eomer said, releasing the elf reluctantly and waving his hand to indicate the room. "Malwyn has all my kit in my old room, and since we're moving in here, I'd like you to talk with her about what you'd like." He looked earnestly at the elf. "Is that okay with you? It's just the two rooms, this one and the outer one, and most of Uncle's things can be taken out..." he stopped, startled by the look in elf's eyes. It was tender and oddly grateful.

"These rooms, done up just for us?" Legolas said, his voice soft. "A place we can be home together, a place with no memories for either of us, just those we make?"

Eomer hadn't thought of it like that, but he nodded.

The elf's kiss was loving and long.


	19. I Won't Give Up

**"I Won't Give Up"**

_When I look into your eyes_  
_It's like watching the night sky_  
_Or a beautiful sunrise_  
_Well, there's so much they hold_

_And just like them old stars_  
_I see that you've come so far_  
_To be right where you are_  
_How old is your soul?_

_~ Jason Mraz_

The hobbits and Gandalf stayed at week at Meduseld, and it was busy for everyone. Sam was pressed to pass on his fried potato recipe to the kitchens and spent a few pleasant hours learning new ways to prepare mutton and beef in return. Frodo was as taken with the pork with mushrooms as the dwarf had been and Sam added that to his repertoire as well.

Eomer was closeted with Eothain and Higa for most of the time, going over lists of refugees, finding places for people to shelter over the winter, sending teams out for firewood and wild grass for winter fodder and bedding. Where whole villages had been destroyed, he had the people brought in to Edoras itself, and if it was overcrowded, at least no one would be left to fend for themselves in the bitter weather to come. He took Gimli's stern advice on the dangers of disease in crowded conditions and set men to work on drainage and waste management. Wood was the scarcest commodity in the plains, but Faramir had promised help from Ithilien and Eomer still had hard currency left in the horses of Rohan. Keeping the best for breeding stock, he would spend where he could to provide for his people.

Legolas and Malwyn went over the King's Chambers in great detail, choosing tapestries, removing old furnishings and replacing the chairs that took place of pride by the fire. Malwyn insisted on new bedding and curtains, while Legolas and Gimli worked with the smiths to create a brazier that left no doubt in anyone's mind that the owner was definitely an elf. The outer chamber was subtly changed, adding a desk as well as the council table Theoden had used. Shelves were brought in and Eomer's surprising number of books arranged in them. While preparations were underway, Eomer slept in his old room. Legolas spent the nights in Gimli's room, and Eomer wisely did not protest.

Eomer spent an afternoon with Gandalf in his new study while Legolas was on one of his errands into the town. He looked very satisfied with their conversation when Malwyn brought them their dinner. That evening, he even joined the hobbits, when Merry and Pippin were entreated to sing for the Hall. All the hobbits, but especially Merry were great favorites in Meduseld, and were constantly asked to stay longer. A few weeks. The winter. But the answer was always the same. Frodo must go home, and as his kin, they must go with him. But Merry constantly promised to return one day.

The night before Gandalf and his small companions were to leave, there was a great celebration in the Hall. People crammed in and the feast lasted for hours as those who had eaten left to allow others to enjoy the work the cooks had put in for this farewell. Speeches were made, songs sung, and Eomer, wearing Theoden's crown, on Theoden's throne, with Legolas and Gandalf seated beside him as the hobbits circulated and Gimli settled in for some serious drinking, felt that he might just be worthy of the kingship after all.

When the festivities died down at last and he made his way to his old room, he was startled to find the dwarf occupying his bed. Snoring loud enough to wake the dead. A wry grin on his face, he made his way to the King's Chambers to find Legolas sitting at the desk in the study, writing industriously.

"You moved Gimli?" Eomer asked, taking the crown from his head and placing it carelessly on the table. The elf looked up and smiled.

"Malwyn's idea. She's very taken with his gallantries, as she calls them." He put down his quill. "I was just finishing my letter to my father," he said, stretching.

"Good, I can show you mine, then," Eomer told him, rifling through some papers on the shelf. "Here," he handed it to the elf. "See if I left anything out."

Legolas quickly scanned the page, written in Westron in Eomer's firm hand.

_Hail, Thranduil, Elven-King of Mirkwood._

_Greetings and salutations. It is my great privilege and honor to tell you of your son's acceptance of me and of our marriage. I pray I may be worthy of him. I offer myself and my kingdom as ally and friend, should you stand in any need, and hope there may be peace and goodwill between our two nations for ever more._

_Yours in friendship,_

_Eomer_

_King of Rohan_

Legolas looked back up at Eomer, who's forehead creased.

"Is there anything in there to get me shot?" he asked carefully.

"Just the part about me," Legolas said. He shook his head. "Be prepared for some bitter words when his return arrives."

"Thinking in Sindarin?" Eomer asked, a slight, worried smile on his face.

Legolas grimaced and held up the letter, covered in flowing Tengwar characters. "I'm trying to be very polite yet firm. Father requires delicate handling at times."

"I'm about ready for bed," Eomer said, noting that Legolas had not offered to translate the letter. "Are my clothes in there," he jerked a thumb at the door to the bedroom, "or must I sneak past Gimli for them."

"It's all done," the elf told him, putting the letter down and standing. "Everything is ready for us."

"You finish your letter," Eomer told him. "I'm sure I can find the bed."

"It can wait," Legolas said. "I want to be there when you see it." He opened the door and ushered Eomer through.

Eomer stared. It was familiar and yet completely different. The green and white of Rohan flashed everywhere, in the curtains and tapestries. Delicate furniture replaced the heavy pieces Theoden had favored. The chest at the foot of the huge bed had traceries of vines and leaves carved into the sides and matched the fabric of the chairs at the hearth. New, thick carpets lay on the floor and everything shone in the light of the lamps on tables and mantlepiece. Eomer's armor stood on it's stand in the corner by the wardrobe. Heavy silver candlesticks matched the washbasin and pitcher on the table by the window.

"Do you like it, Mir?" Legolas asked anxiously. "It's not too elvish?"

"Like it?" Eomer said, walking to the washstand and running a hand over the neatly folded towel. "It's perfect!"

Legolas sighed in relief. "I didn't want it to be too ostentatious, with the rationing in place, but you are King, after all."

Eomer moved to feel the velvet of the bedcurtains. "It's more than I thought possible," he said softly. "I've never seen anything like it."

Legolas grinned. "You should have seen my room in Mirkwood. That was seriously overdone."

"Thank you, Gelthinu," Eomer said. "It's amazing, what you've done."

"What did you call me?" Legolas asked, startled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to use that yet," Eomer stammered. "I mean, it means.."

"I know what it means," Legolas said, his eyes dark. "Where did you get it?"

Eomer felt his cheeks burn. "I stole the dictionary from Aragorn. I took that book on elves from Gondor with me, too. It had a section on names and customs..." he looked away. "I didn't mean to say anything about it until things were more, well, settled, but I wanted to check with a Sindarin speaker before I did, to make sure I had it right, that is wasn't a woman's name or inappropriate or anything so I asked..."

"Mithrandir," Legolas said. Eomer nodded.

"The Joy of Stars," Legolas whispered. "Is that what I am to you?" He looked into Eomer's hazel eyes. "You chose that for me?"

The elf's own eyes were unreadable. Eomer placed his hand gently on the elf's cheek, and Legolas leaned into it. "That and more. You are everything to me," the man replied, his voice low and caressing. "It's never going to be easy, but it's always going to be worth it."

The light in the elf's eyes changed to one of decision. "Wait just a moment," he said, reluctantly leaving the caress and going to a small box on the mantle. He took something out and returned to Eomer. "I had this made for you," he said, taking Eomer's right hand. "Will you wear it?" he asked, slipping the silver ring onto the first finger.

Eomer looked down at it, and then back at Legolas, his eyes bright. "Are you sure?" he whispered. "There's still so much..."

Legolas answered the question with a kiss. A soft and tender thing, that left Eomer gasping from the emotion behind it.

"I'm going to drive you crazy," Legolas said quietly. "And I may never truly understand you. I realize now that I have been saying mine much too often instead of yours or ours. But Gelthinu is yours, Mir. Now and forever."

Eomer took the elf's face gently in his hands and kissed him. Legolas returned it with fervor, wrapping his fingers in the man's hair, pressing against him as if he wanted to melt right into him. Eomer reached up to untie the thongs that held the elf's plaits in place, never breaking contact with his lips, even as he undid the braids. Legolas let go of Eomer's hair, running his hands down the man's back, up under the tunic to feel the skin beneath. Eomer shuddered, but fought against the urge to carry the elf to the bed.

Instead, he left the demanding lips of the elf and trailed kisses along his jaw, down the throat Legolas eagerly offered, licked delicately at the ear. His hands came up to undo the toggles of the elf's tunic, pushing the fabric back, he bit gently along the collarbone, while Legolas whispered Sindarin endearments and ran fingernails over his shoulder blades.

"Gelthinu, meleth nin," Eomer whispered, and Legolas went limp in his arms. He picked up the elf and lay him on the bed, pulling off his tunic, tugging off his boots while stopping to kiss any bit of him he could find. Legolas made no protest as the big man kicked off his own boots, settled beside him and embraced him once again. He reached up to tug the tunic from Eomer, who stopped kissing him long enough to allow it. Legolas took the opportunity to trail kisses down the man's chest, licking him lovingly before Eomer pulled him back up to face him.

"This is ours," he breathed, pushing the elf's hair back. "I am yours. Always."

"Mir nin," Legolas whispered, tracing the line of Eomer's beard. "This is a night for beginnings." His eyes were dark and half-lidded and he smiled as he found the drawstring to Eomer's trousers and the man groaned.

They were gentle and then they were fierce and at the crest, it was Gelthinu that Eomer cried out. Legolas was overcome and could only breathe out "Mir" as he shuddered, and Eomer held him and whispered "meleth nin", over and over. Spent with emotion, they fell asleep, cradled in each other.

Legolas woke a little while later, and wrapping his robe around him, went back to the desk, where he lit the candle and read over the carefully crafted phrases of the evening before. Shaking his head, he smiled, took a fresh page and wrote,

_Father,_

_I have married Eomer King, of Rohan. I hope you will wish me joy. I am very happy._

_Legolas._

He sealed the note with a bit of wax, tossed the crumpled paper into the fire, and crawled back beside Eomer, who, even in sleep, wrapped his arms about him.


	20. Guardian

_**Guardian**_

_ I'll be your keeper for life as your guardian_  
_ I'll be your warrior of care your first warden_  
_ I'll be your angel on call, I'll be on demand_  
_ The greatest honor of all, as your guardian_

_~ Alanis Morrisette_

It was week or so later that Legolas decided to go for a run instead of taking Arod out. Eomer had asked him to take a message to Higa, working outside the walls, and since the afternoon was fair, he thought it would be nice to feel grass under his feet for a bit. Once back in the city, he walked along the twisted streets, returning greetings and waves. The harvest would be in soon, and Gimli was inspecting storage facilities with Eomer. Once the harvest was done they had promised each other, he and Gimli, they would take their trip to Helm's Deep and the caves.

A small commotion in the corner of a fenced yard caught his attention. A little group of children were clustered together, watching him and having a heated argument in loud whispers.

"Is elf?" A tiny thing of maybe three, all eyes and wooly hat was staring at him.

"No, that's the dwarf," said the boy beside her, perhaps seven, curly hair reminding the elf of Merry at his charming best.

Legolas slowed, smiling to himself.

"No, no, lissen," hissed a girl of about nine or ten, obviously left in charge of the group. "I made the rhyme, 'member? Tall and skinny, that's the elf, dwarf is fuzzy and short like self." She patted her chest emphatically. She pointed at Legolas. "He's not fuzzy."

Legolas stopped completely, started laughing, and turned to face them.

"That's very clever," he said, nodding at them. "Did you make that up yourself?" he asked the girl.

She smiled up at him, bright blue eyes twinkling under the praise. "Yes," she said nodding. "It helps them remember."

The tiny girl reached up to him, and he bent down to pick her up. "Is elf?" she asked him, staring in fascination at his ears.

"Yes, little one, I am an elf," he told her gently. "My name is Legolas."

"'Glass?" she tried, reaching a curious hand up to touch the tips.

"Fritha!" the oldest girl hissed again. "Your manners!"

"It's alright, I don't mind," Legolas smiled at the older girl. "I'm quite fond of children." Fritha's tiny fingers tickled the edges of his ears, pulled gently on the braids running above them. "And Fritha is just curious, that's all. May I know your name?" he asked her.

"Beowyn," she told him, dropping a little curtsy. "And this is Malthain and Herroth and Kerrithen." She indicated the boys beside her. They all nodded at him. He smiled down at them, as Fritha continued her exploration of his hair.

"And are these your brothers and sister?" he asked.

"No, we all used to live in the Westfold," Beowyn told him, with a flash of pain in her eyes. "We came here after the fires."

"Of course," he said, shifting the baby on to his hip and bending down to sit on his heels at eye level with them. "Do you like living in Edoras?"

Herroth, the little one that reminded him of Merry, shrugged. "There's lots of people and buildings here, but we can't ride," he admitted, ignoring the black look Beowyn sent him. "Well, we can't, can we?" he shot back at her.

"We're not to complain," she began, hands on hips.

"No horses here for us," Herroth continued. "They've been taken to help with the harvest."

"I have a friend called Arod who is a splendid horse." Legolas interrupted, before the spat could really break out. "Would you like to come and meet him?"

The smiles that broke out among the little group chased away any gloom like the sun chasing clouds. "Really?" Beowyn asked anxiously. "Can we?'

The elf nodded at her. "Run and ask your guardian if you may come. I will wait here with Firtha," he told her, standing back up. She nodded, her grin spread wide across her face as they all ran off crying, "Horse, Thathwyn, horse!"

An older woman, wiping her hands on her apron came out of the house and stopped when she saw him. "Oh, sir," she said, dropping a quick curtsey, "they've come with some tale of Arod and an elf, and oh, Fritha, your hands!" she broke off, noticing a streak of dirt on the elf's collar.

"May I take them to the stables?" Legolas asked her, a grin as wide as Beowyn's on his face. "They seem to be missing their horses and I would like them to spend some time with Arod, if that is acceptable?"

"What, all of them?" Thathwyn asked in surprise, since the group had grown to a full dozen plus the baby, surrounding them with pleading eyes.

"If they would like to, yes," he told her. "I have some spare time this afternoon."

"Eru bless you, sir," she said, with that wide eyed look of women everywhere with a large brood when the whole lot are taken off their hands for a while. "You're sure?"

"Call me Legolas, please," the elf told her, trying to make a bow over Fritha, who was now inspecting the toggles of his tunic. "If you have need of me, Thathwyn, please send word to Malwyn at Meduseld. She will know where to find me."

Beowyn, the oldest of the entire group it appeared, was poking the other children into a double line. "Say thank you," she hissed. "And hold hands!"

A chorus of thanks filled the air, and Legolas started back up to the Hall, the children quickly leaving their lines and gathering about him, peppering him with questions that he tried to field as best he could.

"I don't know, we may meet the dwarf on the way... Yes, Arod is a wonderful horse, he's very fast... Yes, I did see the Mearas, his name was Shadowfax... No, only Gandalf may ride Shadowfax... Well, both Gandalf and Shadowfax are very special... Yes, the dwarf and I both ride Arod together... Yes, Arod is very strong... The dwarf? His name is Gimli... Yes, he is very strong, too... You saw us? I'm sorry I didn't see you wave, I would have waved back... He did? I'm glad to hear that... Yes, he's a very friendly dwarf... No, those were the hobbits... Yes, the very small esquire, his name is Merry... He had to make a long journey back to his homeland... Yes, very far away... No, I think Gandalf and Shadowfax will take very good care of them."

He led them up to the Hall itself, and into the kitchens, where he looked around for the tall woman.

"Lady Malwyn?" he called over the hubbub.

"My lord Prince, what are you doing?" she asked loudly, and the children quieted right down. Here was the voice of authority and they all recognized it.

"We are off to the stables to visit Arod, my lady," he told her, grinning. "May I leave them in your charge for a few moments? I need a quick word with Eomer King." She met his grin with one of her own and nodded.

"I'll bet we've just enough time to taste one of those cakes I've had cooling," she said to the bunch, and small happy faces nodded at her. She reached for Fritha, but the baby refused to let go of the elf. He shrugged.

"I'll take her with me. Now, you mind Lady Malwyn," he said to the children. He took Beowyn by the shoulder and led her to the front of the group. "This is Beowyn, Lady Malwyn. It's she who takes such good care of all of them."

He walked quickly through the halls to Eomer's study, humming softly to Fritha who was settled in as if she knew a good thing when she'd found it and wasn't letting go. He knocked politely on the door, then opened it and stepped in.

Eomer, Eothain and Gimli turned to face him, and the look of surprise was nothing to the shock of Fritha, who immediately began squirming to get down. Legolas put her down and she rushed to the dwarf, climbing up on his lap, pulling on his beard for purchase, and burrowing into it. "Gimmi!" she cried, in her high pitched voice. "Fuzzy?"

Gimli, his eyebrows in his hairline, stared at the child, then at the elf. Legolas made little encouraging motions and Gimli wrapped the child in a hug. "Fuzzy!" Fritha repeated, obviously delighted. "Is dorf!"

"This is Fritha, gentlemen," Legolas said, unable to keep the laughter from his voice. "I've given your message to Higa, Eomer King, and all shall be done as quickly as possible. I seem to have made plans for the rest of the afternoon, but if you need me, I shall be down by the stables."

"Where did you get her, Legolas?" Eomer asked, chuckling as Fritha ran chubby hands over the dwarf's cheeks.

"She's in Thathwyn's charge," the elf explained. "I'm taking them all to see Arod. The rest are down with Lady Malwyn."

"Gimmi is dorf," Fritha repeated, planting a kiss on the hairy face. "Glass is elf," she told him, her little face quite serious.

"Yes, child, I know," Gimli told her, placing a kiss on her hat. "You go with him now and see Arod." He gently placed her feet back on the ground. She reached up and tugged his hand.

"Gimmi come too," she told him.

"Gimli is very busy right now," Legolas told her softly, holding out his hand. "Come, Fritha, let's see if Malwyn has a piece of cake for you." Torn, the child looked from the elf to the dwarf and back again. Gimli leaned forward and gave her hand a little squeeze.

"I will see you later on, child," he told her. "Go with the elf."

She smiled at him and scampered back to Legolas, where she held out her arms to be carried again. Legolas winked at them and left, closing the door softly behind them.

"Thathwyn's charge," Eothain began, his eyes clouded with pain.

Eomer nodded, echoes of it in his own gaze. "Westfold orphans."

xxXxx

Legolas led his charges to the stables where they spoke in soft voices as he led them in. Herroth and three other boys stopped in front of the loose box where Eomer's stallion was kept.

"Legolas," Herroth said softly, "that's, that's Firefoot!" His little body nearly vibrated with excitement. "That's Eomer King's horse!"

"Yes, that's him," Legolas said, and the horse, hearing the elf's voice, stuck his head out of the box, trying to nuzzle him. Fritha giggled and Firefoot snorted at her, causing her to laugh again.

"He's so beautiful," Beowyn sighed, stopping for a good look as she shepherded the rest of the children in. Firefoot tossed his head and snorted again.

"He thanks you, Beowyn," the elf told her. "He thinks he is very beautiful as well."

The children dispersed throughout the stables, looking at the different animals, always speaking quietly, gently, happy to be back with the lifeblood of their nation once again. Legolas carried the baby over to Arod's box and spoke quietly to the horse.

"Old friend, I have brought these lonely children who miss their horses terribly. Will you share your friendship with them and help to ease their grief?" he asked in lilting Sindarin. Arod nickered softly, and Legolas reached out to ruffle his mane. Fritha leaned over and gave the horse a gentle pat.

"Is Arod, Glass?" she asked.

"Yes, he is." he told her. He looked about at the children, gathering by the stall door. "Arod, these are my new friends. Will you come out and visit?"

The children all stepped back as he opened the box door and let Arod out. Moving very slowly and carefully, Arod stepped into the center of the stable. There were oohs and ahhs, and one girl pointed out that he wasn't bridled.

"He needs no bridle," Legolas told her, "he works with me from friendship. Why don't we take him outside, where there's more room?" He looked about. "Herroth?" he called, "will you bring the length of rope from his stall?"

The boys was quick to comply, and after all the children were outside, Legolas whistled for the horse. Arod came out, and they all moved to the corral where the children began gently patting and stroking the placid horse. Only Fritha refused to be put down, so Legolas swung her onto his shoulders instead. She hung on to his head and crowed, delighted to be so much taller.

"Legolas," Beowyn said, emboldened by the elf's friendly manner and attentions to her, "I think he has a bit of a tangle in his tail. May I, would he let me, I can run and get the brush," she said, casting down her eyes at her own forwardness, after castigating the children earlier.

Legolas and the horse exchanged a look, and he nodded at the girl, who picked up her skirts and ran for the grooming kit.

The dwarf's voice rumbled over the commotion. "Legolas! You're going to drop that bairn! Let me have her!" Gimli said, reaching them.

As a grinning elf handed the girl over, to her loud cries of "Gimmi!", the other children clustered around and Gimli was introduced to each of them. Settling on a hay bale, with Fritha in his lap, he answered questions cheerfully, stopping to ruffle a head or shake a hand here or there.

Legolas was getting ready to put a rope bridle on Arod when he heard Herroth's loud whisper. "Beowyn, it's the King! The King!"

Eomer, his shirtsleeves rolled up and beaming at the youngsters, was leading Firefoot into the pen, saddled and bridled already.

"Eomer King," Legolas exclaimed happily. "How nice that you could join us. Come and meet everyone!" He ran through the introductions quickly, noting that Eomer repeated every child's name and had a kind word for each.

"Firefoot and I didn't want to miss out on all the fun," Eomer told him, a sparkle in his hazel eyes. "Now, are there any here ready to try my big brute, do you think, Legolas?"

Herroth was sticking to Eomer's side like a burr. "My lord?" he asked, eyes full of hero worship, "did he really carry you all through the battle at Gondor?"

"He did, my lad, and wasn't even winded at the end," Eomer replied, giving the big grey a rough pat. "But he's gentle as a lamb when there's no fighting to be done. Would you like to try him?" he asked. Herroth squared his shoulders and nodded, hoping the king couldn't hear his pounding heart.

Eothain picked him up and placed him in the saddle, walking beside Herroth, but not touching him to preserve the boy's dignity, as Eomer led the horse around the corral. Arod was now by the pile of hay bales, three girls having climbed up on them to braid his mane and Beowyn industriously grooming his already perfect tail. The horse gave Legolas a look, and nickered softly. Gimli was telling the children about the wonders of the caves beneath Helm's Deep, while little Fritha chewed on his beard.

It was Malwyn who reluctantly broke up the party, coming out to herd the children back to the hall to be washed and fed. She fed them in the Hall itself, not the kitchens, with lots of bread and butter and jam after the meal, and the exhausted children were taken back to Thathwyn's home at dusk. Gimli carried the sleeping Fritha. When he tried to put her into her cot, she woke and cried, but the canny dwarf had spoken with Malwyn, and she'd found what he'd asked for. An old knitted doll, worn and soft with years of snuggling. He gave her the little toy, and she cuddled it right up and dropped off again.

xxXxx

Malwyn rapped softly on the door to the study. Eomer was at the desk, while Legolas was inspecting the books on the shelf and Gimli was seated at the table busy with his little knife and a piece of wood.

"Come," Eomer called, pushing back his papers, and Gimli looked up from his carving. They didn't try to jump to their feet anymore, Malwyn had told them to stop that nonsense after their second day home, and she carried in a tray with ale.

"Could I have a word, Eomer King?" she asked. Gimli and Legolas made to stand up, but she waved them back down, pouring out the mugs. "It's nothing private. I wanted to ask about the girl, Beowyn."

"What about her, Mal?" Eomer asked, taking the tankard she passed him.

"I'd like to take her. She's just the type I want. She's smart and responsible and would do well in the Hall. I don't know how much it would upset the other kiddies, though," she said. She sat down with her own tankard. "I'd like to speak to Thathwyn about her."

"She's still a child," Gimli protested, looking down at the bit of wood in his hand.

"I was but ten when I started in service, Master Gimli," she told him, no rancor in her voice. "A bright, energetic girl like that would be a huge help to me. And no shame to her to work in Meduseld."

"I don't know of anyone better to raise a child than you, Mal," Eomer told her softly, tones full of confidence. "You made sure I turned out alright."

"I meant no disrespect," Gimli said, and she nodded at him.

"It'll give the girl a future," she told him.

"What about her lessons?" Legolas asked softly.

"What?" Eomer asked him.

"Lessons. Schooling. Do they learn to read and write?" he asked, tilting his head as if he couldn't believe he had to explain it.

Eomer ran his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his face. "It's all we can do to feed and clothe everyone right now," he pointed out. "There's not been much time..." he broke off and slouched down in his chair.

"Winter is coming," Gimli observed, drawing his knife with long, deliberate strokes. "We could maybe do something then."

"It wouldn't take much," Eomer agreed. "It's the shortage of people who can teach."

"I'll help," Legolas volunteered. "So will Gimli, but he has terrible penmanship."

Gimli nodded silently, draining his tankard. Then he stood up, tucking his knife and the little carving into his belt, sweeping the shavings into his hand. "That's me then. I'll see you in the morning. My lady, lad, elf." He nodded at each and left.

"Have I said something?" Malwyn asked Legolas. He shook his head at her and smiled sadly.

"No, it's just very hard for him sometimes. He's very impatient. He wants to fix everything in the world _right now_. And he can't stand to think of all those children, hurting, and he can't fix that." His eyes flickered to door where his friend had just left, then back to Malwyn. "That little carving? It's a horse for the girl, Beowyn."

"I think the girl will blossom under your care, Mal," Eomer told the woman, as she finished her ale. "Perhaps if she had time for lessons while learning her duties around here..." he looked at her and then lowered eyes at the glare that she sent him.

"Do you take me for a fool, Eomer, lad?" she asked him. "I want her for a nurse, I think she's got the temperament and brains for it. Of course she'll learn to read and write. Of all the nonsensical..." she stopped herself and shook her head. "It's been a long day, forgive me. Goodnight, lads," she said, dropping a hand on Eomer's shoulder as she passed him. He reached up and gripped it tightly for a moment. "They all need help, they'll all get it, and I'm starting with the girl," she said as she left. The king stared at the closed door with a vacant stare, absently sipping at the ale.

"I'm going to bed as well," Legolas said after watching him for a few moments. He stood up and kissed the top of Eomer's head. "Will you be long?"

"Oh, no," Eomer said, startled out of his thoughts. "Just a few minutes."

He heard splashing as Legolas washed up, and then quiet from the bedroom. When he finished his second ale, deep in thought about the events of the day, he went into the room and was surprised to find the elf on the windowsill, hair loose and dressed only in his trousers. The elf turned and smiled as he came in.

"I thought you were going to bed," Eomer said, opening the chest and pulling out his nightshirt.

"I wanted to watch the stars for a bit," the elf told him, turning back to the open window. "They're so beautiful."

Eomer changed quickly and moved to stand behind the elf. He wrapped his arms around him, and Legolas leaned back into the embrace, Eomer's chin on his shoulder. The beard tickled, but he loved the feel of it. They stayed that way for a while, and then Legolas turned his head to look up at the man.

"What's bothering you, Mir?" he asked.

"I don't understand it," Eomer said. "When I saw you today, with that baby, it did something to me. You were as natural with her as if she were your own child. It was wonderful to watch, but it felt like something broke inside me." He crossed over to the bed and sat down on the edge, his hands shaking. "I'm scared."

With quick silent steps, Legolas crossed and knelt before him, taking the trembling hands in his own. "Of course you are," he said softly. "You realized that she was my own child. They all are. Because they're yours."

"Oh, Sweet Eru," Eomer gasped, tears starting in his eyes. "I can't do this, I can't. Not this! I can't give them what they need! They've suffered so much."

"Yes, you can," the elf soothed. "That's why you brought Firefoot out. You gave them a happy afternoon, not with The King, wearing his crown and golden armor, but with a King who will be a father to them, who will look after them, get to know them. You will provide for them, care for them." He reached up to wipe away a tear that hung from the edge of Eomer's beard. "Do you think there was a child there today who will be afraid to come to you for any need now? A child needs to love his father, not fear his king, and you planted those seeds of love today."

"There are so many of them," Eomer sobbed out, fighting for control.

"And we will seek out and look after every one," the elf said. "Mir nin, there is so much love in you, more than enough for all of them."

"And there I was in Gondor, worried about being childless," Eomer said, laughing through the tears and ending up choking. Legolas fetched him a drink of water and he got that down, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I think we've lost Fritha to Gimmi, though," Legolas told him sadly. "I bet she names the dolly 'Fuzzy'." His smile was mockingly ferocious.

"Well, we'll still have Beowyn," Eomer pointed out, "She's going to grow up as bossy as Mal, isn't she?"

"Definitely," the elf said, stripping down and getting into bed. He patted the mattress beside him. "Come, Mir, get some sleep."

Eomer got in beside the elf and settled his head on Legolas' chest, the elf stroking his hair. "Meleth nin," Eomer asked softly, "when did you know?"

The elf sighed. "As soon as I picked her up," he confessed. "I hadn't really thought about it before. It was more of a vague worry, before I met them. But then it all sort of crystallized."

"You're taking this very well," Eomer told him. He smiled, and the elf could feel some of the tenseness leaving him. "You've married into a very large family, it seems."

Legolas bent down and kissed the creases on Eomer's forehead. "I lost my mother early," he said gently. "My father, well, he was never the same afterwards. If he had been kinder, loving, well, maybe it would have made a difference. But it was like I lost both my parents at the same time." He placed another gentle kiss on the man's head. "You have been orphaned. You were lucky to have Malwyn and your uncle. We must try to do the best we can for these children."

xxXxx

Three days later Legolas received a message from Thathwyn's house. He went over immediately, and the children greeted him in wild chorus and Fritha tried to scale him, carrying her dolly in her chubby hand. He scooped her up and nodded at the doll.

"What is it called, Fritha," he asked, hoping to win his private wager with Eomer who had insisted the doll would be called Gimmi.

"Is Dorf," she said, hugging him tightly around the neck.

"Dwarf? That is its name?"

"Yes. Fuzzy an' short," she explained patiently.

"Sensible," he said, nodding, smiling at her.

The other children clustered about him, telling him all their news, Gimli had come by with some toys he'd scrounged, and they were racing the wooden horses. Eomer King had sent word to Thathwyn that he would like to see the children again sometime soon. Beowyn was almost bursting with her news, the Lady Malwyn had come herself and asked for her, personally, mind, to come and work at the Hall, so she would be able to see him and Eomer King and Gimli and Arod much more often. But it was Herroth who had the biggest surprise for him.

"We found him, Legolas," he said, pulling something wrapped in a dirty rag from behind his back. It wriggled and Legolas looked at it, then Herroth. The boy proudly pulled back the fabric to show him a tiny, filthy, skinny puppy.

"He was abandoned," Beowyn said, with a shake of her head. "We've been sharing our bread with him, but he's so small, and he makes Thathwyn's eyes water and turn red. We want you to have him, Legolas."

"Is dog," Fritha told him, as he took the squirming rag bundle.

"Yes, I see," he told her solemnly. "Thank you very much, all of you," he beamed at them. "I'll bring him to play with you sometimes, will that be alright?"

"We've named him Hroth," Herroth said proudly. "Eomer King has dogs, but we wanted you to have one of your very own. He can be a friend for Arod, too."

xxXxx

Back in the King's Chamber, Legolas had just finished drying the puppy after three thorough washings, and hoping he'd gotten the last of the fleas. Hroth was small enough to handle with one hand, and he wrapped the puppy in a dry towel and was getting the bread and milk he'd asked Malwyn to have sent up. Eomer came in, looking for him, and started.

"What is that? Rat?" he asked, leaning over the elf's shoulder.

"This, Eomer King, is the first present any of the children have ever given me, and I'll thank you not to make fun of it."

"So it's not a rat, then," Eomer said.

"Is dog," Legolas said, in a fair imitation of Fritha's voice. "And his name is Hroth, thank you very much."

"May I?" Eomer said, reaching for the small bundle.

"Go ahead, I'm just getting him something to eat."

Eomer examined the tiny thing. "He's going to be huge, Legolas. He's all paws."

"And nothing else," the elf said, retrieving the puppy and sitting down with it. He started to feed it small pieces of the milk soaked bread. "The children were sharing what little they had with it. Herroth told me he doesn't like potatoes. The dog, I mean, not Herroth."

"Legolas," Eomer said, "are you crying?"

"No, I'm not," the elf replied. "Hair up my nose."

"Oh, love," Eomer said, going over and kissing the top of his head. "He's going to be fine."

"Of course he is! And so are they," he added, a hitch in his voice. He got himself back under control. "And we both lost, by the way."

Eomer raised a brow.

"She named the dolly 'Dwarf'."


	21. When I'm Away From You

**When I'm Away From You**

_When I'm away from you well, I can't stay still  
My thoughts won't move from the way I feel  
It happens time and time again  
And the circle never ends_

_When I'm away from you_  
_Well it hurts to say_  
_My sense has gone so far away_  
_I'm up all through the night_  
_And I can't tell wrong from right_

_~ The Quireboys_

With the harvest successfully gathered in over the next month, there was a sigh of relief throughout Rohan. It might be a lean winter, but they weren't going to starve. Riders were sent out to see what villages needed to secure homes against the coming cold. Knitting needles clicked endlessly as women worked on socks, hats, scarves. Malwyn presented Gimli with a knitted cap Beowyn had made herself.

"My thanks, my lady," he told her, holding the lumpy thing with a broad smile. "But surely the children have greater needs..." She held up her hands in protest.

"Bless you, Master Dwarf, they've all been kitted out already," she told him, with a twinkle. "In fact, Fritha asked me to make sure you had one since your iron hat won't be all that warm. Herroth's banged a bit of broken spoon into a helm for her poppet, you see."

"We dwarves are hardy folk, Lady Malwyn," he told her. "But if it will give the wee one ease," he finished, pulling the grey cap over his ears.

He wore it proudly under his helmet all the way to Helm's Deep, when they finally left later that week. Eomer had decided to join them to judge best how much more could be done on the repairs before the cold set in, and see what was needed in that part of the Mark.

Since Hroth was growing by leaps and bounds, and followed the elf everywhere, Gimli wondered what arrangements the elf would make for the dog. Even though, in Eomer's opinion, Legolas spoiled the little thing outrageously, the pup was more well behaved than many a full grown dog he'd seen. There was no whining or excessive barking, and it seemed to take only a glance from the elf for the dog to come or stay, sit or lay down on his rug. There was no question in Legolas' mind about leaving him behind while they went to see the caves. So, several days before their departure, with Hroth in his arms, he had a long chat with Arod. Eomer, curious and taking his time to groom Firefoot over in the next stall, would have given much to understand the conversation. Arod sniffed Hroth, who sniffed him back, and Legolas went on, speaking seriously to each in Sindarin. The three seemed to reach some kind of accord, since the elf put the puppy down in the stall with the horse, where they sniffed, nickered, and yipped at each other for a few moments.

"Eomer King," the elf said, mindful of the others around, "where may I procure an old saddlebag?"

"What's wrong with yours?" Eomer asked him, pulling the brush through Firefoot's tail with long strokes.

"They are also Gimli's, and I am unsure if he will approve of the use I will put them to," the elf said, a look of concern bringing his dark brows together. Eomer smiled at the elf's cadence once again.

"Check with Higa," he told him, "he should have something decrepit enough for you."

Higa did and Legolas spent an evening going over the old bag, tightening seams where needed, making the modifications he wanted, and in the end, packing for himself and the dwarf.

The morning they left, Gimli, fairly dancing to be gone, took one look at the gamboling pup behind the elf and raised a hand.

"You can't bring him, Legolas," he said, gently. "He'll not be able to keep up. Best he stays here with the children."

Legolas gave him that smug half-grin of his and fastened the saddlebags on Arod. Once all was secure, he whistled and the pup came running. He scooped the little creature up and plopped him in one of the bags.

"You're not serious!" Eomer said, as Arod didn't even flicker an ear.

The elf shrugged. "It's padded, he'll be comfortable enough."

"He'll suffocate!" Gimli protested.

"No, I've made holes here and here," the elf pointed them out, "and he's got a piece of rawhide to chew. He'll be fine."

"What about the other?" Eomer asked, his beard not hiding his grin at all. "He's still very young."

"Oh, he'll just bark if he needs to. Then, Gimli, you merely scoop him out and hold him at arm's length. We talked it all over."

"Elven magic," Eomer said, shaking his head.

"No, lad, Elven madness." Gimli retorted. "Well, let's get on with it, since you're determined to bring the beastie with you."

Legolas winked at Eomer as he boosted the dwarf up onto Arod's back and then swung himself up. Eomer, absently rubbing the ring on his finger with his thumb, found that the sight didn't bother him in the least. The more he worked with the dwarf, the more he found himself respecting and liking him. Gimli was like an uncle, an opinion on everything, and a knack of seeing through to the heart of a problem. He no longer wondered at Legolas' deep love for the dwarf. He was beginning to share it. Many times a chance word dropped by the dwarf in passing gave him a whole new perspective on things.

Their trip was uneventful, and nothing, not even the lateness of their arrival could stop Gimli from walking very quickly to the caves, Legolas taking long strides to keep up with him. At the entrance, Gimli lifted his lamp and said simply, "Look there, lad."

Legolas had no words. Nothing the dwarf had said could have prepared him for the beauty that spread out before them. He was conscious of tears streaming down Gimli's face and felt a lump in his own throat. He reached out, placed a hand on the dwarf's shoulder and squeezed.

"Aye, lad," Gimli said, looking up at him. They stood in silence for hours, gazing in wonder. Finally the elf found his voice.

"Shall we go down?" he whispered. It seemed almost sacrilegious to speak normally here.

Gimli shook his head. "We go in tomorrow morning. You must see it properly, with the sunlight reflecting down."

Another hour passed and reluctantly, they left, anxious to begin exploration the next day. Legolas found Eomer with Hroth on the bed, the big man already asleep and snoring. He gave the pup a few minutes of attention, then crawled into bed where he lay for a long time thinking about what lay beneath them before he drifted off.

Eomer's jump and muttered curse woke him the next morning. Hroth, burrowing beneath the covers, made his way up to elf's chest and licked him.

"That dog," Eomer said, crossly, "chews nothing but what you give him. Will you please tell me why he nibbles my toes? Are you conspiring with him?"

"You taste so good, Mir," Legolas said, his voice innocent, his eyes very wicked. "Surely you know that?"

Eomer laughed loudly, and the dog scrambled off the bed and headed for his rug as the man gathered up the elf in his arms.

xxXxx

They had been in the Hornburg for about three weeks when the rider came from Edoras. Eomer met him at the gates, among the scaffolding that was being taken down. The chill of frost was in the air and the rider's horse steamed.

"I've messages from King Aragorn," the rider said, pulling a leather pouch from his saddlebag. "I've been charged to see this gets to Master Gimli immediately."

"Is anything wrong?" Eomer asked the man, leading him into the keep and calling for someone to get the dwarf.

"No, my lord," the rider told him. "I've messages for you and the Prince as well, but, well, you can read for yourself." He handed over the packet. Eomer broke the seal and pulled out the folded paper with his name on it. He scanned the message quickly. Aragorn sent greetings, all was well in Gondor, and he hoped Eomer would be able to spare Gimli for a little while. He raised a brow and frowned.

He and the rider were seated at the table, sharing some wine when Gimli and Legolas came up from the depths. Gimli looked grumpy and Legolas concerned.

"Letters from Aragorn," Eomer told them, nodding to the pouch. They took theirs, and with a look of frustration at the elf, Gimli read his aloud.

_Hail, Gimli, son of Gloin, Elf-friend, _

"It's never good when they start with all your titles," Legolas said solemnly. The dwarf grunted and continued.

_I hope this finds you well, old friend and ask your help in a matter than has just come to my attention. Thorin Stonehelm is sending a delegation of dwarves to meet with me and they shall be arriving within a week. I beg you, for old friendship's sake, to come and advise me. I know they are going to want to discuss Moria. Your counsel will be invaluable._

_Aragorn_

Legolas looked down at his own, a simple, short note, and laughed.

"What?" Gimli asked, with a sigh. Legolas handed him the sheet.

_L,_

_By the Valar, convince him to come! You know the stubbornness of dwarves!_

_A._

Gimli smiled grimly and started muttering to himself in Khuzdul. Eomer poured him a glass of wine and handed it over. Legolas patted the dwarf on the shoulder.

"I love that man," the dwarf complained, "but his timing is horrible!"

"You'll go then?" Eomer asked him, glancing at the elf, who was engrossed in folding up the letters, and didn't notice.

"Aye, I'll go, knock some sense into those heads of theirs, and be back before the snow flies." Gimli said, reaching for his pipe. "Make sure no one touches a thing down there until I return, lad."

"You have my word, Gimli. Will you take Hroth, or will you leave him with me?" Eomer asked the elf.

Legolas looked up, startled.

"Where he goes, you go," Eomer said, nodding at Gimli, and the statement had none of the bitterness it had held only a couple of months ago. It was plain fact. "Hroth is getting a little big for the saddlebag and you'll probably make better time if I keep him with me. Do you want to talk to him about it?"

The elf looked away for a few moments, then looked back and grinned. "I guess I can trust you with him," he said.

Gimli looked between them, and sighed. "I guess we'll leave in the morning, Legolas," he said, shaking his head.

xxXxx

That night, Legolas stared out the window, watching the stars, while Hroth chewed on his rawhide and Eomer went over some paperwork. When he was finished, the big man stretched, and getting the comb out, started to untie the elf's braids.

"Why are you sending me away?" Legolas asked suddenly, not turning his head.

"I'm not, you're going with Gimli," Eomer answered evenly. "It won't be for long, you'll be back home before you know it."

"Dwarves take forever to decide anything," Legolas said. "It could be full winter by the time we get back."

"Hroth and I will be waiting for you." Eomer said, feeling the elf relax under the gentle strokes of the comb. "And you'll have a chance for a good visit with Aragorn and Arwen. I know how much you love both of them, I don't want you to get so wrapped up in things here in Rohan that you lose touch with your other friends." He paused. "Or with elfkind."

Legolas turned to stare at him. "What are you talking about?" he asked indignantly.

Eomer sighed and put down the comb. "Alright," he said, holding up his hands. "I want you to go and be able to enjoy yourself. To speak Sindarin to those who understand it. To do elf things with Arwen. To not have to put up with my thousand questions all the time. I want you to be happy. Have some fun."

"Elf things?" Legolas asked, raising his eyebrows. "What, exactly, did the dwarf say to you?"

"Nothing!" Eomer protested. "I just thought..."

"It was wrong, whatever you thought," Legolas said, interrupting. "I am happy, here with you. So I ask you again, why are you sending me away?"

"So you wouldn't have to choose!" Eomer told him, his temper flaring. "I didn't want you to think you couldn't go!"

"You couldn't keep me if I wanted to go!" Legolas shot back, eyes flashing. "I do what I want, Mir!"

"And by Eru, don't I know it!" Eomer retorted. "Here's the truth, then, love, I don't want you to go! I want you to stay and we'll go back to Edoras and look after things there and Gimli can spend the winter with Aragorn."

"Then why didn't you say that?"

"Because I know as well as you do that you're going. You wouldn't let him go by himself. And you'd be miserable without him. So I tried to make it easier for you."

"No, you don't get to do that," Legolas told him. "You have to let me make my own decisions. And I have to have the truth from you to do that."

"Even if it hurts you?"

"You promised me honesty," the elf said softly. "It never even crossed my mind to let Gimli go by himself, you're right. But I feel much better now, knowing that you're as unhappy about being separated as I am." He reached up to trace the line of Eomer's beard. "And that you understand why I have to go."

Eomer let out an exasperated sigh. "Meleth nin, why must you fight me when all I want is to make you happy?"

"Because, Mir," the elf said, pushing back the man's hair, "you have within you a very wide protective streak. I don't need protecting. I need your love. That makes me happy."

Eomer smiled and pulled the elf off the sill and into an embrace. "They do tend to get mixed up sometimes," he admitted.

xxXxx

Gimli and Legolas made the trip in easy stages, enjoying the freedom of the road once again, even if Gimli did complain constantly about being pulled from the caves so precipitately. The dwarf noticed that just before they reached the White City, Legolas began looking behind him, almost as if something were following them.

"What is it, lad?" he asked, noting that Arod did not seem to be worried.

"It's nothing," Legolas told him absently. Gimli grinned to himself.

"Well, don't you worry, we'll get Aragorn and the dwarves on good terms as quickly as we can and head back. Hroth and Eomer will look after each other, never fear."

"Yes, of course," Legolas said, with one more glance over his shoulder.

Aragorn and Arwen met them in front of the Citadel and they were both impressed at how much work had been done in the city. Rohan was not the only land busy with reconstruction.

"The dwarves arrived yesterday," Aragorn said, rolling his eyes at Gimli. "So far we've been engaged in the pleasantries, but now that you're here..."

Arwen hugged Legolas, and then pulled back to take a long look at him. She smiled, and then dropped her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, very quietly, a faint blush of colour in her pale cheeks. The tips of his ears turned pink. "I shouldn't pry," she began, "but I wish you all joy."

He bent to her ear, and they conducted a rapid fire, whispered conversation in Sindarin. She hugged him again, nodded and looked over at Aragorn. "Legolas and I are going to catch up a bit," she called softly to her husband and the dwarf. "We'll be in my study."

Aragorn and Gimli nodded to them as they headed to greet the dwarves from Erebor, Gimli muttering about their timing all the the way.

Arwen called for refreshments, and having settled Legolas in one of the comfortable chairs and served him coffee, got herself relaxed on the divan opposite with a cup of herbal tea and looked at him.

"So? Tell me all about it," she said, with such love and understanding in her voice that Legolas found himself pouring out the frustrations of having fallen in love with the man to begin with, and his difficulties in adapting to loving a man instead of an elf. He kept certain things private, of course. Arwen didn't need to know everything about Eomer's past and his reaction to it, and if she guessed there was something deeper to his story, she wisely kept her own counsel.

Legolas found it a great relief to speak in unhesitating Sindarin, giving his thoughts the nuances and colours he had trouble with in Westron. He spoke of the small things, the things an elf would have known instinctively, and Eomer's endless questions about this celebration or that tradition. She encouraged him, told him of her own little problems with Aragorn, who, even having been raised by elves still did not completely understand their minds.

Legolas told her, with a rueful grin, about Eomer's attempt to make him visit Gondor. "I admit, now that I'm here, he was absolutely right," he said. "Things seem a little clearer, speaking with you."

"I'm glad you feel you can," she told him, her smile wide.

"Are they all like that?" Legolas sighed as he sipped at his second cup.

"Men?" Arwen asked, with a laugh in her voice. "I think so. I think they forget what we're capable of." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "We look fragile to them," she explained, grinning, "or so Faramir assures me."

He laughed loud and hard at that. Then his eyes changed, a hint of darkness filling them.

"Arwen, how is she really? Eowyn, I mean. They send little notes back and forth, when he writes to Faramir, and she sends little notes back, when Faramir writes, that she's well, and sends her love, but is she really..." he broke off, as something guarded entered Arwen's face. "I'm not asking for secrets," he assured her hastily. "But he worries..."

"She is well, Legolas. We are all adjusting to life in these new circumstances. I speak with her often, and I can assure you that she's, well, she's growing up." She smiled gently at him. "Just as you are, friend of my heart."

He snorted and drained his cup. She offered more, and he accepted.

"Do you not have coffee in the Mark?" she asked, pouring delicately.

"Rationing," he shrugged. "We're saving it for those out with the herds."

"I'll send some back with you," she winked. "A wedding gift."

"Must I share it?" he asked, with a small twinkle.

"No, I shall give you something else for Eomer." She lay her hand on his arm. "Some advice for you. He misses his sister, yes. Siblings, they can be your best friend and worst enemy rolled up into one." She smiled at him, her face lighting up at certain memories of her own brothers. "This breach will be mended, you must be patient. And, Legolas, hard as it for you, you must allow him to look after you."

"What?" He shook his head. "Arwen, he's got the whole of the Rohan to put back together, the people to care for, I don't know where we're going to ever find enough wood for all the building, this...problem with Eowyn, the last thing he needs is to worry about me!"

"You've got the arrow the wrong way round," she told him. "Let me see if I can explain this about men, for you must understand this from his point of view. You give him so much, comfort and heart's ease at the end of a hard day, wise counsel, laughter, joy in life. He loves you above all others. So all his instincts are to care for you. Including protecting you." She paused to let that sink in. "You are faster, stronger, of course, but that is exactly why he must feel able to look after you. A marriage that is not between equals is doomed, Legolas, and you can help him so much in this. With another elf, it would not be a problem, but with a man..." she trailed off, looking away for a moment.

"Arwen?" he asked, alarmed.

She laughed, and it was like silver bells in the afternoon sunshine. "He will try to make you sleep when you're not tired, eat when you're not hungry and save you from any trifling problem that may come along. If I were to tell you that, you would think I was treating you as a child or an imbecile. He doesn't understand, that it may be days before you need to sleep or eat. Each little act or demand is his way of saying he loves you. He's taking care of you. Let him, Legolas, for the time is so short..."

She broke off again, and as they looked at each other, they both recognized the pain the other was trying to hide.

xxXxx

Stonehelm's dwarves _were_ stubborn. There were treaties to arrange, trade agreements, so many little things. Gimli's temper grew short, but at Aragorn's patient insistence, he was able to keep it under control and keep from "chucking the whole lot back to Erebor" as he threatened to do in Aragorn's study after a day's hard negotiations.

Legolas and Arwen spent many afternoons together, but her duties did call her away. She was still in great demand, her healing presence still much needed in this city that had taken so much pain in the war. Legolas found himself spending more time alone. He returned to his former haunts, up in the high places, or riding Arod through the cold air of the early winter.

Gimli, of course, noticed that he was becoming quieter and less outgoing than he had been. He stayed in their room, idly flipping through the same book time and again, not seeing the words. But the dwarf's questions were always answered by a smile, and a reassuring quip. Arwen looked at him curiously, during their walks or over tea, but he was all affability with her. So he was able to fool them both for a few weeks, slipping out after Gimli had fallen asleep or pretending to be in any one of a half dozen other places when he was wanted.

But when he disappeared completely, for three nights in a row, Arwen took matters into her own hands. Much as she may have given up for love of Aragorn, she was still an elf. In nondescript clothing and an old cloak, throwing off the Queen in concern for her friend, she was able to track him down unhindered in the sleet, to where he was perched up on the top of the tombs of the fallen elite of Gondor.

"Legolas!" she cried, as she climbed up beside him. He was curled in on himself, looking out toward Rohan. His hair was frozen with the ice in the air and he shivered. He paid no attention to her, and she shook him by the shoulder, taking his hand. "Legolas!" she said, moving into his field of vision. His hand was warm, it wasn't the cold that made him shake so.

"Arwen?" he asked, confused, as his eyes came back into focus.

"Why?" she asked him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Can you stand?" He gripped her arm with a hand that trembled.

"Arwen? I can't..." he tried to concentrate on her face. "I can't...feel...find", he slumped down again.

Her eyes took on a look of horror, and picking him up bodily, she threw him over her shoulders and carried him to the edge of the roof. Quickly making her way back down and to his rooms, she found Gimli just returned from seeking him out in the baths.

"What's wrong?" Gimli demanded, as Arwen put the shaking elf on the bed. "What's happened to him."

"Gimli, I know you are a strong and hardy folk, and this may be difficult for even you, but he needs you. You need to take him home. Right now." Her eyes were still tinged with fear and she spoke softly, gathering up their belongings from the press stuffing them haphazardly into the saddlebags.

"Mirkwood?" Gimli asked, confused, fear gripping at his heart. She stopped at placed a hand on his cheek.

"Dear Gimli, forgive me, I spoke in haste. You must take him back to Eomer. As fast as possible. I will explain as we get Arod."

xxXxx

Eomer kept himself so busy during their absence that he barely had time to miss them. At least that's what he told Hroth, as he lay down at night, the puppy curled up beside him. Legolas would probably be angry with both of them for that breach of training, but he was willing to risk it. And Hroth was a good listener.

He'd just gotten to sleep when he heard Malwyn's voice and her insistent banging on his door. "Eomer, lad, get up!" she called.

"Come," he called, pushing Hroth off his chest and sitting up.

She opened the door, still dressed, despite the lateness of the hour. Her face was worried. "There's a rider coming in, fast," she told him, meeting his eyes squarely. "It's Arod."

He was up instantly, throwing on his clothes, as Hroth skidded across the floor to follow him.

Eomer was halfway to the doors of the Hall, thrown open by Malwyn with her lantern, when Arod clattered up the steps in front of him. The horse was exhausted, and Gimli, holding on to the reins behind the unresponsive elf, looked grimmer than he ever had.

"What is it, what's happened?" Eomer cried, looking from one to the other. "Gimli?" At the sound of Eomer's voice, Legolas seemed to come to himself for a moment, lifting his head, and his eyes were terrible. Eomer's heart dropped to his toes.

"That's a journey I don't want to repeat," the dwarf told him, fear colouring his voice. "Take him, Eomer, the lad can barely sit the horse, let alone stand."

Eomer lifted the elf as if he weighed no more than a child, cradling him against his chest. "What's wrong with him?"

Malwyn held the bridle as Higa, who had been in the Hall, helped the stiff dwarf down. "Take him to your rooms, put him to bed, I'll pop by in a moment," Gimli said, wincing as he stretched protesting muscles.

"What do you need, Gimli?" Malwyn asked.

"Something warm, I'm chilled to the bone," he told her. "Higa, if you'd take Arod and give him the best care, I'd count it a great kindness," he said to the man, who nodded, leading the horse down to the stables to start cooling him down.

"Malwyn, if you'd have some coffee and whatever you've got on the back of the fire brought up to Eomer's rooms, I'll explain it all to you on the way there," he yawned. "The Lady Arwen said he'd recover once he got back home."

Eomer had gone down the halls at a dead run and shouldered his way through the doors. He gently placed the elf on the bed, and pulled off his boots, stripped the freezing clothes from him and piled on the covers.

"Meleth nin," he whispered, as Hroth jumped up beside Legolas. "What happened? Please, tell me what's going on!"

"Mir?" Legolas asked, his voice very far away. "Are you really there?"

Eomer grabbed the elf's hand and held it against his chest. "Right here, love."

"And I'm awake, yes?" the elf mumbled.

"I think so," Eomer said, confused. "Why?"

"And you are still alive?" Legolas asked, his voice stronger.

"Last time I checked, yes," Eomer said, with a note of exasperation.

The elf's reaction nearly scared him more than his lassitude. Legolas grabbed him and held on to him, pulling the man so he fell down on the bed, landing on the elf heavily. To his surprise, Legolas gave a weak laugh.

"Yes, that's you," he said softly. "That's your weight, alright."

"Legolas, what the hell is going on?"

"I couldn't feel you, Mir," Legolas said, his voice bleak. "I thought you were dead. I was searching for you, everywhere."

There was a discreet knock on the door. Eomer stood up to answer it.

Malwyn brought in a tray, with Gimli behind her. The dwarf looked almost as drawn as the elf.

"You pointy eared little princeling," Gimli growled, to be stopped by a yawn. Eomer opened his mouth to protest, but Gimli held up a hand, stopping him, then pointing at the elf. "Next time you will tell me, or I swear I'll take the flat of my axe to your backside, and no King is going to stop me either!" Eomer saw Malwyn's lip twitch as she placed the tray on the table, but he didn't see the humour. "I'll be back to give you a proper scolding in the morning," Gimli continued. "Arwen said to tell you you'd been pining and lost in your dreams. It was she sent us back, as fast as the poor beast could carry us. Now, you eat and get some sleep, and don't think you've heard the end of this!" He bowed politely to Malwyn, and then followed her out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Eomer flopped down in the chair and threw his hands up in defeat. "I give up! I didn't understand any of that."

Legolas looked pensive. "Pining," he said, propped up on his elbows, chewing his lip thoughtfully.

"Yes, that's what he said," Eomer said, looking over the tray. "Oh, good, ale!" He poured himself a tankard. "There's coffee here, did you want some?"

The elf nodded absently, wriggling to a sitting position, Hroth on his lap. Eomer huffed and handed the mug to him. He drained his tankard and poured another. Then he turned to face the elf, waving his free hand. "So, shall I just get drunk on my own or is there something you need to tell me?"

Legolas looked at him, his head tilted. "You've been fine, the whole time I've been gone?" he asked, a puzzled note in his voice.

Eomer stared at him. "Besides missing you, you mean? Yes, not so much as a scratch or a sniffle. I don't know why you'd think I was dead!"

The elf's brows drew down. "So you could feel me, even though I couldn't feel you?"

"What are you talking about?" Eomer asked. "What do you mean by feel?"

"I'm talking about our bond, Mir," Legolas told him. "The connection we've had since we first made love, how we can sense how..." he broke off, his eyes wide at the stunned look on the man's face. "You don't feel that at all?"

Eomer shook his head slowly. "Am I supposed to?" he asked quietly.

Legolas looked at his coffee cup, then put it on the table beside the bed. "I don't know," he said, with a hint of despair.

"Okay," Eomer said, sitting down beside him on the bed. "Start again. Tell me how it would be if I were an elf."

"Elves, well, once they marry, they're always connected. Not like the Lady Galadriel's gift, but it's just there. You know how the other is, vaguely, sense strong emotions, things like that."

"And you have that with me?" Eomer asked, his brow creased.

"You don't have that with me?" Legolas shot back, raising his own eyebrow.

"Men aren't like that," Eomer said, reigning in his frustration. "We muddle through without any magic bonds..."

"It's not magic, it's in the blood," Legolas told him sharply.

"Which I don't have, remember?" Eomer said.

"But Arwen has it with Aragorn!" Legolas protested.

"Aragorn is Dunedain, and has a drop of elven blood in him. I'm just a bloody Rohirric barbarian!" Eomer cried. "I wish to the Valar I did have such a gift!"

"Why are you yelling?" Legolas yelled back. Hroth whined and the elf put the pup down on the floor where he went to his rug. "You're scaring the dog!"

"Because you scared me half to death, coming home like that, and I don't understand a thing that's happened and you're making me doubt my own sanity! Will you stop getting angry with me and explain? Start at the beginning and use little words." Eomer exclaimed.

"Fine," Legolas snapped back at him. "I feel you all the time. I'm supposed to. So when we got to Gondor, and I realized that it was weak, but still there, I thought it was just because it was you're a man, not elfkind. Until the night I found that it was gone altogether."

"And then you thought," Eomer started, but the elf cut him off.

"I thought something terrible had happened to you. So I started trying to concentrate on it, to try and find you. No word had come, Arod didn't feel anything from Firefoot.."

"Wait, what do the horses have to do with this?" Eomer asked.

"Herd mind," Legolas said absently. "They're always part of the group."

"Of course," Eomer said, throwing up his hands again. "I don't know why I didn't think of that."

"You know, if you're going to be like this, I'm going to sleep," Legolas said. "I've had a rough, wait, what day is it?"

Eomer told him.

"Oh," the elf said. "I've had a rough three weeks, then."

"Stay awake for a minute," Eomer said, calming down a bit. "You were like that for three weeks?"

"Apparently. No wonder Arwen got worried."

"Explain the dreams to me. How did you get lost?"

The elf shuddered. "I remember thinking that if I couldn't sense you when I was awake, I could do it while I was dreaming. I wouldn't get distracted that way."

"Let me guess. By things like, say, food or proper sleep?"

Legolas nodded.

"I need more ale," Eomer said, getting up.

"I don't know why you're so sarcastic tonight," Legolas said.

"Use that magic bond," Eomer told him.

Legolas let that one slide. "So you can't tell how I'm feeling at all?" he asked, reaching for his coffee again.

"Sure I can," Eomer said, turning from the table to face him. "I just do it like this. 'Hey, Legolas, how do you feel?'" he called.

"Like smacking a King, that's how I feel," Legolas muttered.

Eomer downed the ale and took a deep breath. "Can we try this one more time?" he asked, sighing.

The elf nodded at him. Eomer kicked off his boots and stretched out beside the elf.

"Tell me if I understand this," he started. "You can always sense me, except when you're away from me for a while. If I was an elf, it wouldn't matter how long you were gone or how far you were. That's what you were expecting. Do I have that part right?"

"Yes," Legolas told him, sipping at the coffee.

"So when you stopped sensing me, since I'm a Rohhirc King, not an elf, and I'm telling you, love, I will never understand the elven mind, you were shocked and you panicked. You stopped taking care of yourself and started wandering Eru knows where in your dreams, looking for me. Instead of, say, writing me a note or talking to Arwen, a very wise person, I may add, as well as an elf herself, or coming home for a couple of days or anything like that."

"I'm sensing sarcasm again," Legolas told him.

"Good, the bond's back," Eomer said, shaking his head. "And then you did something, I'm afraid to ask what, that scared poor Arwen and she packed you and Gimli off on Arod and he ran back here, where you showed up senseless and with your eyes full of grief. Just the sight of you nearly stopped my heart. Gimli is worn out and Arod will need a week in clover just to catch his breath. And on top of all that, you argue with me about it all. Did I leave anything out?"

Legolas thought for a moment. "No, that's about it." He finished his drink and put the cup back on the table.

"Good." Eomer told him. "Don't you ever do that again!" he raged. "You have no right to terrify the people who love you. You are not an island, Legolas, and you need to learn to speak up for your own damn self. Quit going all noble on us when you need something. Stop putting yourself last! Now," he said, his voice softening as he pulled elf on to his chest. "Tell me all about it. It must have been so hard for you."

Somewhere in the back of the elf's mind he heard Arwen's gentle tones. "_Let him..._" So he took a deep breath and started.

"It was horrifying, Mir. I couldn't think of anything but you, back here. I couldn't feel you...not at all..."

"I'm right here. Always." Eomer told him, wrapping his arms tighter around the elf. "This is where I belong."

"I don't know if I can do it again," Legolas said, running his hand over the man's chest. "How can I travel if I can't be away from you?"

"I'll come with you, then," Eomer said, stroking the braids, fuzzy from being untended. "Whatever you need me to do, I'll do. Anything to keep you from doing this to yourself again."

Legolas smiled up at him, but then Eomer saw the flicker in his eyes, remembered grief. "What?" he asked softly.

"You don't know what it was like," he said, "that emptiness where you're supposed to be. It scared me." Despite himself, he felt the shaking start again.

"I'm right here," Eomer soothed. "You're exhausted. We'll get some sleep, it'll be better in the morning."

The elf tugged at the man's tunic, trying to hide the tremble in his fingers. "Take this off, let me feel your skin."

Eomer quickly stripped, slipping between the covers to find the elf shaking.

"Sweet Eru, what is it?" he asked, pulling the elf in close. He kissed the tousled hair, traced his fingers gently along the curve of the elf's jaw.

Legolas ran his hand across Eomer's chest again. "I couldn't stand it. I couldn't feel you."

"I'm right here. You can feel me now, can't you?"

The elf pushed himself up, kissing the man, running his hand over his chest again, down the outside of his thigh.

"Yes," he breathed into Eomer's open mouth. "I'm home."

Even as his skin caught fire, Eomer tried to reason with Legolas. "You need..." he began, but his words turned to a low moan as the elf continued to stroke him.

"I need you," Legolas said fiercely, as he ran his tongue down the man's throat, across the broad chest. "I need this."

Eomer moaned softly again, running his nails over the skin of the elf's back. He was used to the swift mood changes his lover could make but tonight the elf's ferocity startled him. Legolas was incessant, hungrily demanding Eomer's lips, his body, again and again. Finally spent, emotionally as well as physically, he curled against the man's chest.

"Need to feel you," he mumbled, as he drifted off to sleep. Eomer cradled him gently and stared out in the darkness, wishing he could drift off so easily.


	22. Silver And Cold

_**"Silver And Cold"**_

_I came here by day, but I left here in darkness  
And found you, found you on the way  
And now, it is silver and silent, it is silver and cold  
You, in somber resplendence, I hold_

_Your sins into me_  
_Oh, my beautiful one_  
_Your sins into me_

_~ AFI_

Winter settled in over the plains, some days the snow blowing so fiercely that it drove everyone inside. Drifts piled up, blew away and piled up again. One calm afternoon, when the snow fell it fat flakes in the grey light of the cloud cover, Gimli begged Beowyn from Malwyn for the afternoon while Legolas and the puppy collected the other children from the town. Gimli had cobbled together some sleds from bits of wood and steel and they had a perfect time sliding down the snowy hills.

The light was starting to fade as Hroth floundered through the piles of snow, chasing bits and rolling in it. Legolas laughed at him as he strode to him to rescue him from a particularly deep drift.

"It's not fair, Gimli," Herroth grumbled, watching the elf walk lightly over the thigh high snow. "He doesn't even sink."

"Aye, I know it, lad," Gimli told him. He watched the elf pick up the dog, chiding it gently in Sindarin, and then something out on the plains caught his attention. He turned back to the dwarf.

"It's a messenger from Mirkwood!" he called excitedly to Gimli. "Will you and the children excuse me for a bit?"

"Go, go," Gimli sighed. "I know you're dying to hear from your father."

With a smile at them, the elf sped off across the snow. "Come on, Herroth, let's pull Firtha up again." Gimli told the lad.

"His father, Gimli," Kerriath said, in a quiet voice, "that's the scary elf king you told us about?"

"The one who put your father in a dungeon?" Herroth asked. "And your brave father escaped in a barrel with the dwarf king and the others and the little hobbit?"

"Yes, that's the story," Gimli said, settling Firtha on the sled. The baby was so wrapped in sweaters and coats and scarves that she could barely move on her own.

"What if he wants Legolas to go back?" Beowyn asked, a frown on her face as she sorted out whose turn it was next. "I mean, you both live here now, with us, don't you?"

"Aye, lass, we do," Gimli told her, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry yourself, it will take more than a note from his father to make him go back."

xxXxx

Legolas caught up with the elf and called out a greeting.

"Well met, Gilon! What brings you out in this weather?" he said, laughing.

"Your father sent me, Lord Prince," Gilon said, a smile tugging the corners of his lips. "What's a little snow compared to his temper?"

Legolas' face fell. "He's angry with me?" he asked, shifting the puppy to a more comfortable position in his arms.

Gilon smiled. "Not with you, Lord Prince, with the world. He's up to his ears in dealing with men and dwarves and clearing out the wood." He took a look at the crestfallen Legolas. "Don't worry, he's sent messages for you and Eomer King. I've even got one for that dwarf friend of yours."

"And the luggage?" Legolas asked, waving at the laden animal the elf led. "Are you moving in with us?"

Gilon laughed. "No, I'm to return as soon as I have your responses. He was very firm on that. He just sent a few things for you."

Legolas sighed. "That's a good word for him. Firm."

He led Gilon up through the city and to the Golden Hall. Eomer came out to meet them, and had a room prepared for Gilon. The horse was unpacked and the bundles sent to the King's Chamber, except for the keg of Dorwinion, which Legolas greeted with delight and Eomer with a groan.

Settled in Eomer's study, Gimli joining them after taking the children home, Gilon delivered his messages and sniffed at his ale. Then he looked over at the elf, who was pouring coffee for himself.

"Can I have some of that?" Gilon asked.

"Help yourself," Legolas said, looking at the folded parchment on the table as if it were a snake.

"Go on and open it," Gimli told him, reading his own letter. "Nothing is worse than anticipation."

"What does he say to you?" Eomer asked, holding his own letter gingerly. It was much thinner than Legolas'.

"Nothing, this is from my own father. I won a private wager we had." Gimli grinned.

"Here, I'll go first," Eomer said, breaking the seal. He looked over the elegant Westron script and his brow creased.

_Eomer King,_

_Being assured by Mithrandir that you are a man of honour, I provisionally accept your offer of alliance between our kingdoms. You may expect me in late summer to ratify these treaties in person. Congratulations on your marriage._

_Thranduil,_

_Elven-King of the Greenwood._

"What?" Legolas asked, as the blood drained from Eomer's face. "What's he said?" he snatched the letter from the king's hand.

"He's coming?" Gimli asked, as Legolas groaned, his eyes scanning the note rapidly.

"Typical Father," he muttered, looking back at the dwarf. "Eomer King, sit, Gimli, get him some more ale!"

"What about that demon drink Gilon brought?" Gimli asked.

"It has to settle," Legolas said absently, nodding at his friend. He swallowed and ripped the seal from his own letter.

_Legolas,_

_What have you done now? I heard with disbelief from Mithrandir about your dealings with Gloin's son, who I understand you now call soul-friend, but to give yourself to a man? What were you thinking? I thought I understood your affection for the Ranger, but this? How can I wish you joy when that joy will be as fleeting as the beat of a butterfly's wing? A few swift seasons and you will be desolate! Will your dwarf be enough to save you from the grief? Have you learned nothing in the years you have been away from home? I had thought the example of your friend would have been enough to dissuade you from such folly! Even now she fades and diminishes with sorrow! Or have you taken Elrond's daughter as your model? She at least will pass from this world, what shall you do, my son? Will you wander for all the ages when your dwarf and your man have both passed beyond your reach?_

_I have taken the liberty of accepting Eomer King's proposals and will see you in late summer when we shall discuss this in more detail. In the meanwhile, I have sent a few things you may need. If there's more you require, I shall have it delivered. I doubt that you are able to keep even your wardrobe in good repair with the privations of the war torn southlands you have chosen as your home and have sent along clothing suitable to your status.._

_Why must you be so stubborn? Why could you not follow the good counsel I gave you..._

It went on, both sides of the pages covered in angry Tengwar. Legolas folded it back up and put it on the desk.

"He's not happy with you either?" Eomer asked, as Gimli poured more coffee for the elf.

"Not especially," Legolas said, shrugging. "I didn't expect him to be." He looked at Gilon. "We celebrate the mid winter festivities in six days. Will you stay to join us?"

The elf drained his coffee and stood, stretching. "Not if your reply is ready beforehand, Lord Prince," he said.

"What reply?" Legolas asked, raising a brow. "Dear Father, thank you for the robes and socks. I can't wait to see you and hear your views. Please start sending the Dorwinion now."

Gilon laughed. "If you wouldn't mind jotting that down, Lord Prince, I'll be off in the morning." He gripped the other elf by the shoulder. "He does miss you, my lord."

Legolas snorted. "He's barely had time to notice I've gone," he replied.

xxXxx

The elf snorted again as he surveyed the baggage that covered the bed. "We're going to need another chest in here," he told Eomer, as Hroth sniffed at the coverings and then at the elf. Gimli chuckled and volunteered to ask Malwyn for one. The elf could hear him laughing as he closed the door behind him.

"What did he send?" Eomer asked, poking a rather knobbly package.

"Most likely it's things I'll never need." Legolas told him. "I told you, he has fixed opinions about things."

"It's not all clothes, is it?" Eomer asked.

"No, not all," the elf sighed, picking up a small chest, made of rosewood and intricately carved. He shook it and then opened it, dumping the contents on the pillow. Silver, diamonds and other precious gems gleamed in the lamplight. Eomer sucked in his breath at the pile of circlets, rings and brooches. Legolas ran a hand through it, pulling out an ornate pin, almost as large as his hand.

"Where am I going to wear this?" he asked, shaking his head. His face softened as he put down the pin and lifted out a circlet. "I was always partial to this when I was younger," he told Eomer. "It's a smaller version of one my father has." He looked closer at the man. "Mir?" he asked.

"He sent all your jewelry?" Eomer asked, still staring at the pile.

"This? No, these are just some trinkets," Legolas said, waving a hand over it. "The box was on a shelf in my rooms. I'm not that fond of gold, so these are mostly silver, with some mithril pieces mixed in. Have a look, see if there's anything you like."

Eomer stared at him. Legolas started to laugh.

"Oh, Mir nin, you look like you've been poleaxed," he chuckled as he waved a hand about the room. "You are about to have a demonstration of the word _ostentation_. These are the things my father feels a crown prince cannot do without."

Eomer grinned weakly. "Did he send a throne for you?"

"Sweet Eru, I hope not," Legolas said. "We'd have to put it together!"

There was a preemptive bump on the door as Malwyn led two stout lads in carrying a large press. "It's the best I can do in a pinch, my lords," she said, looking over the pile on the bed. "I take it you'll want this put away as quickly as possible? It might want hanging first."

"No," Eomer said, leading her to the chair and nodding the boys out of the room. "You just sit right there. Gimli, would you bring the lady a glass of wine? I think she'll enjoy this."

"Really, Eomer, lad, it's Legolas' business," she began, but as he opened the first bundle and the pile of silk fell out in waves on the bed her voice faltered and her eyes went wide. The elf held up a dark green coat so worked in silver thread that the material itself had a metallic sheen. The pleated skirts fell to his feet in shimmering splendour. He grinned and lay it out across the bed and then proceeded to pull out several robes in shades of green and blue, leggings made of the softest suede, pairs of knee high boots in leather so thin it could be fabric itself. Gossamer tunics and shirts, leather trousers, it all piled up. In the last bundle Legolas grinned and dumped out pairs of neatly rolled socks.

"I knew it!" he laughed. "Not one proper pair of boots, not one good cotton shirt or serviceable tunic. All show Except for socks."

"And you ran away from home?" Eomer whispered, stunned at the wealth so casually displayed on the bed.

"I ran away from this," Legolas pointed out. "Gimli's parents sent him a proper package with the dwarves from Erebor."

"Aye, that they did," the dwarf chuckled, "and not before time too, if you take my meaning."

"Master Gimli, you've only to ask," Malwyn interrupted him. "It's my job to make sure everyone is outfitted properly."

"No need to tax your stores, my lady," he soothed her. "Besides, there's no way you could keep that one in his frippery." He motioned to the elf and laughed again.

"It's all so beautiful," she said softly, her eyes straying back to the shimmering piles on the bed. "Do elves really dress like this all the time, lad?" she asked.

"Father does," Legolas replied ruefully. "I prefer this," he said, motioning to his own worn clothing. "Much more comfortable and practical."

"And he's coming here?" she asked him, looking at Eomer with the beginning of horror in her eyes.

"You're not to put yourself out one bit for him, Lady Malwyn," Legolas told her sternly. "Or worry yourself about it."

"You'd best give her the preview, lad," Gimli said, standing up and reaching a hand to Malwyn. "Suit up and we'll meet you in the other room. Try and get the haughty look right."

"The haughty look?" Eomer asked, puzzled.

"Oh, yes, he's got a great one." Legolas said, as the door shut behind the lady and the dwarf. He sighed. "Well, what do you suggest?" he asked, looking at the pile.

"I like that dark green one," Eomer said, flipping through the clothes on the bed. The elf sighed once more and stripped down quickly, tugging silver leggings and tunic out of the mess and slipping into them. The sight of the almost see through silk shirt stirred memories and desires in Eomer that he hadn't expected. The elf pulled the coat on, buttoning up the bodice and sitting to tug on the boots. Standing again, he untied his braids and saw the look of absolute lust in the King's eyes.

"Really?" the elf asked, a wicked grin pulling at his lips, tilting his head and shaking out his hair. He ran his comb over it and turned to the pillow, where he chose a circlet and positioned it properly. It emphasized the points on his ears, and the length of his hair. Then he pulled out several rings, slipped them on to his fingers, and fastened the giant pin to his coat. A moments rooting about in the piles surrendered a large cloak and he threw it over his arms in a careless fashion. Then, as Eomer watched in surprise, he took several deep breaths, seemed to somehow grow even taller, and stilled completely. When he turned to face his lover, his normal, cheerful expression was gone. Nothing in the blue eyes gave a hint that he felt anything but perhaps a trace of contempt for the world.

Eomer licked his suddenly dry lips. "My Lord Prince?" he asked, a question in his voice.

Legolas shifted his head very slightly in acknowledgement, but no expression crossed that perfect, still face.

"By the Valar," Eomer breathed, "I had no idea you could be so...regal."

"It is in the blood, after all," Legolas said, in the soft and measured tones of his father. "Shall we, Eomer King?" He made a fluid movement with his hand towards the door, something so graceful Eomer could hardly believe it.

"Of course," Eomer said. But as he crossed the room, the elf's hand snaked out and grabbed him by the wrist. Legolas was back and pulled the startled king in for a lingering kiss. He smiled at the confusion in the man's eyes, his own twinkling with mischief for a minute.

"I swear, love, you're going to be the death of me," Eomer muttered, kissing the elf soundly again. "And I can't wait to get you out of that outfit later, so let's not be all night, alright?"

The mask slipped back into place. "As you wish, of course, Mir nin," Legolas said smoothly.

"You're going to scare Mal half to death," Eomer muttered.

Malwyn choked on her wine as the door opened and the Prince swept into the room, turning about so she could see the full effect of the costume. Gimli shook his head.

"Still too friendly, lad," he told the elf.

"He's a very commanding presence, then?" Malwyn asked. Legolas and the dwarf both nodded. But Malwyn was up out of her chair and inspecting the cut of the coat, the fall of the material, exclaiming over the silver embroidery with feminine delight. The elf sighed.

"Promise me you won't do that to Thranduil himself," Eomer said to her, settling back in his chair.

"It's just clothes, my lady," Legolas told her. She grinned up at him. He took the other chair, arranging one long leg over the other so the boots were properly displayed, and looked at them all.

"Do you look like him, lad?" Malwyn asked, seating herself again.

The elf shook his head. "We have the same colouring and there's a slight resemblance, but he's much more...majestic."

They were interrupted by a sharp rap on the door. "Come," Eomer called over his shoulder.

The man was a stranger to both the elf and dwarf, dark of hair and eyes. It was a rarity in this land on fair folk and Legolas wondered for a moment if he were kin to Malwyn. But Eomer's startled reaction had him instantly on edge. There was something in the man's manner that spoke of an easy familiarity with the King.

"Eomer King!" he exclaimed happily. Legolas' blood turned to ice.

"Wulfric!" Eomer said, shooting a quick glance at the elf. "I thought you were in Ithilian with Eowyn!" He stood and clasped the man's arm, even as he leaned away from the embrace the man would have given him.

"I've brought her messages for the midwinter festival." Wulfric said, his eyes locked on the elf.

Thranduil himself could not have been more impassive and yet radiate such menace from complete stillness.


	23. I Dare You

_**I Dare You**_

_Hello, let me introduce you to  
The characters in the show  
One says yes, one says no  
Decide - which voice in your head you can keep alive  
Even in madness, I know you still believe_

_~ Shinedown_

"This what I meant, about his father," Gimli whispered to Malwyn beside him. She gave him a tight smile.

"Eowyn sent you?" Eomer echoed, his brow creasing. "Why?" She was privy to his secrets, she always had been, and he'd spent an evening with his head in her lap while she calmed him after the tumultuous relationship had ended. Wulfric had always been unpredictable, something that had not endeared him to Eomer after that first flush of attraction. If she had calculated that Wulfric's arrival would cause trouble between him and Legolas, she'd judged rightly. He couldn't believe that she'd do that. Well, he'd deal with his sister's motives later. Right now, the elf was much too still and deadly.

Wulfric shrugged. "It was a last minute decision," he said, turning from the elf to regard the king. "I found I wanted to be home for the midwinter festivities. I had this urge to visit old friends," he explained with a cheeky grin. "Lady Malwyn," he greeted her, executing a courtly little bow. She nodded at him in acknowledgement.

Legolas caught the flash of confusion and concern that filled Eomer. While a hundred images flashed behind the expressionless blue eyes of the elf, all of which encompassed the death of the man before him, it would have to wait. More important to him than the blood lust singing through his veins was that hurt expression on Eomer's face at the mention of his sister. So this Wulfric would live at least long enough to explain himself, to remove that pain from Eomer's eyes. The only outward sign he made was the hand that moved to idly stroke Hroth's head. The dog had sat up beside his master's chair, all attention on the stranger, attuned to the elf's every mood as always.

The dwarf's chair scuffed as he stood heavily, bowing courteously to the newcomer. "Gimli, son of Gloin, at your service," he said politely. He shot a look at the elf, lounging in his chair, draped in that careless majesty. Gimli understood his friend completely, that Legolas was buried inside the Prince, hiding the emotions ripping through him in the insulating comfort of being Thranduilion. Better that than a bloodbath just before the festivities, Gimli decided. At least the lad was trying to think outside the quiver.

"Wulfric, son of Ulric at yours," the man responded, bowing and glancing up at the elf again. Legolas remained silent, observing Wulfric, his face impassive and unconcerned. Gimli wanted to kick him. But then again, elven Princes did not introduce themselves to mere commoners who had been overly friendly with their mates in these circumstances. At least he didn't think so. He was about to do the offices himself when Eomer stepped in.

"Legolas, this is Wulfric, one of the warriors attached to Eowyn's household in Ithilien. He's an old friend of mine." Eomer said, his brow creasing. Oh yes, Legolas realized the relationship he'd once shared with this dark haired man. But the elf always demanded honesty from him. He wasn't even going to try to make a secret of something this important.

There was the smallest shift of an eyebrow from the elf. "How nice."

"Legolas is the Crown Prince of Mirkwood," Eomer went on, speaking to Wulfric while shooting a sharp look at his lover. Legolas pretended not to notice it, his eyes lingering over Wulfric's form instead. Solidly built as Eomer himself, Legolas picked out several places he could do some serious damage to the man with the candlesticks.

"Oh, I believe he knows exactly who I am, Eomer King," the elf said evenly. His eyes were sapphire clear and unyielding, betraying none of his thoughts. "In fact, I'd be very surprised if he didn't."

"As radiant as rumour claims." Wulfric said, bowing low.

"And every bit as deadly," Gimli muttered under his breath. "Don't push it, now, boyo."

"Pour the man some wine, Gimli. What will he think of our manners?" Legolas rebuked the dwarf, turning a black look on his soul friend. "There's no cause to be rude." He settled back into his chair, waving the fingers of one hand at the dwarf absently. The rings sparkled like winter fireflies in the lamplight. Gimli let out a huff and tried to remember if there were dungeons hidden deep underneath the hills of Edoras. He'd happily stuff the elf into one until the lad stopped vibrating under his skin like that.

"My thanks, Lord Prince," Wulfric said, his dark eyes glittering with something that seemed to accept the elf's challenge. "It's always a great pleasure to be received by royalty."

"Yes," the elf almost purred, the slightest tilt to his head. "I am always interested in meeting someone who has had Eomer King's favour."

"You have messages from Eowyn?" Eomer interrupted, resolutely trying to regain control of the conversation, indicating a chair to Wulfric. Eomer strategically placed his own body between the elf and the messenger. He might be able to slow the elf down with Gimli's help, and let Wulfric escape if Legolas tired of this game and shifted to bloodsport instead. The dwarf deftly served the rich wine, catching the king's eye and nodding slightly at him. "How is she?" Eomer asked while desperately wishing Wulfric safely back in the taverns of Ithlien.

"She was slightly unwell when I left, Eomer King" Wulfric said, taking the chair and accepting the glass. His eyes shifted to Malwyn as he braced himself for the tirade he knew was coming.

"Not the chest complaint again?" Malwyn interrupted him, leaning forward, her dark eyes boring into Wulfric's. "She's not being exposed to the damp of that river, is she?" Her eyes flickered back to Eomer's worried hazel gaze. "You remember how sick she was with it three years ago, Eomer. I spoke to Lord Faramir about the importance of her being kept warm and dry in the winter."

Eomer nodded. He recalled only too well the racking cough and fever that had kept him by her bedside, wiping the sweat from her brow, holding her hand when she didn't even realize he was there anymore. Malwyn's potions and poultices had pulled her through, but the chatelaine had always kept a close eye on her charge when the weather turned cold.

"Does she have a decent nurse?" Malwyn continued. "The Lady Arwen is very capable, I understand." Legolas' lip twitched in a tiny smile at that, while Gimli grinned widely

"Nothing like that, not at all!" Wulfric was quick to answer, eager to reassure his listeners. "Just a slight stomach upset. She's sent letters of course, to you Lady Malwyn, as well as her brother."

Malwyn's eyes took on an odd light. "Is that so? I'd like to read it now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen," she said, standing. She held out her hand imperiously to Wulfric, who coloured under her direct gaze.

"I don't have it, my lady," he told her. "Eberth has the letters."

"A courier who doesn't carry his lady's letters. How interesting," Legolas drawled. A slight grin flickered about his lips. Legolas still blamed himself for being the cause of any contention or opportunity for misunderstanding between the siblings. Perhaps Eowyn, despite Eomer's reaction to the man, didn't know about the relationship between them. To kill her chosen messenger would be rude at best, no matter how much he wanted to. But if he were merely here as a visitor...

"Eberth is here, now?" Malwyn interrupted again. "Why didn't you tell me, Wulfric? Did you just leave him in the great hall?" She shook her head at him. "I'm disappointed in you, nephew."

"Forgive me, lady," he said, and although his voice was contrite, he winked at Eomer. "I got distracted. He's with friends, we barely got up the steps before he was beside the fire with a mug in his hand." Legolas' eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at the man. Another demon reared its head in his soul and howled in frustration.

"You're not a child, Wulfric," Malwyn said, impatience evident in her voice. "Let's go, my lad! Duty first, how many times must I tell you!"

Eomer scraped his chair and stood. "I'd better come too," he said. "Gimli, Legolas?"

"You go, Gimli," Legolas said, waving him away ostentatiously. "I've a message to prepare tonight," he told Eomer. "Give my apologies to Eberth. I shall speak with him tomorrow."

As a scolding Malwyn led the others out into the hall, Eomer lingered for a moment. He took in the unconscious nobility clothing the elf once again. That eerie calm. It hit him, then, that Legolas had learned this from the cradle. This was his birthright. And he again wondered at the circumstances that had induced him to give it up.

Legolas gave him a smile as fleeting as dew on a sunny morning. "Go, Eomer King. Tend to your duties. I have my own. I shall see you when we have both finished."

"You're thinking in Sindarin." Eomer pointed out. "Are you alright?"

"I'll be writing to my father," Legolas replied. "Go." It was just short of command. Eomer knew enough not to push. He shut the door carefully behind him. He just as carefully did not hear the crash of breaking glass that followed his exit.

XxXxx

After several cups of ale, warm embraces and Malwyn uncharacteristically leaving the men to their own devices while she poured over her message, Eomer made his way back to his chambers. He hoped the elf had worked out the worst of his fury and would be ready to talk sensibly about what had just happened. The outer room was empty, cups and wine tidied away, the lamp on the desk the only lighting. There was no sign that it had ever been occupied that night. Eomer sighed, blew out the lamp and opened the door to the bedchamber.

Legolas, still wearing his Mirkwood finery, stood over the bed. Clothes had been sorted haphazardly into the new press, bits of suede coat or silk shirt peeking over the edge. The soft boots were lined up beside the stand that held Eomer's armour. The jewelry was still on the pillow, and the elf sorted through it, giving no sign he'd heard the man come in. Eomer glanced over at Hroth, who seemed to be sleeping on his rug.

"I thought you were writing a letter," Eomer said, watching the elf from the doorway. Legolas held up a burgundy cloak, heavily brocaded, and turned to face him.

"I wanted to give a gift to the Lady Malwyn." the elf said, holding out the fabric. "In honour of the season and the regard in which I hold her. Would this be appropriate?"

Eomer's eyes flicked over the cloak and then back to the elf's face. "She'll love it. Are you alright?"

"Fine," Legolas said, turning back to the pile on the bed. "She should have a pin to go with it."

"Legolas, about Wulfric," Eomer began, but the elf ignored him. He chose two brooches, one silver with gold chasing, one with a large opal, from the brilliant assortment on the pillow and held them out for inspection.

"Which do you think?" he asked. "Neither is really heavy enough for a lady of Rohan, but..."

"Stop it." Eomer demanded. "We need to talk about this."

"Why?" Legolas asked, his eyes still that brittle blue. "It's over, is it not?"

"I'm over him, if that's what you're asking." Eomer said, folding his arms across his chest and leaning on the wall. "Are you?"

"He wasn't the first, was he?" Legolas asked, replacing the opal pin and pulling out a heavier one, set with a ruby.

"No," Eomer admitted with a sigh.

"Pity. I thought if I paid him your bride price, it might make me feel better." Legolas folded the cloak, carefully placing the gold and silver pin through the fabric.

"Bride price!" Eomer sputtered. "Of all the..."

"How many horses could I get for all this, do you think?" Legolas asked, motioning to the pile on the pillow.

"More than I've got for sale," Eomer said ruefully, noting that an amber set had been set aside.

Legolas shook his head sadly. "Wouldn't be enough, then."

"That's more than Eowyn's bride price would be," Eomer pointed out, his voice rough. "Since you've a mind to buy me."

"You don't get it!" Legolas snapped, sweeping the jewelry off the pillow in a furious gesture.

"No, you're the one who doesn't get it," Eomer told him crossing the room and stooping to pick up the glittering bits scattered across the floor. He held up his right hand, the plain silver ring glinting. "This is all the bride price needed. You've already paid it. Now talk."

"I chose this for your sister," the elf told him, raising up the amber necklace. It sparkled warm and golden in the winter night. "It reminds me of her. She always makes me think of wheat fields in the late summer sun. Do you think she'd accept a gift from me yet? Or should I wait until she's more comfortable with me?"

Eomer stood up straight, tossing the gems on the bed. "As a diplomatic gesture? Certainly, I think the Lady of Ithilien would appreciate such a thing from you, Lord Prince!" he snapped.

"That's not what I meant at all!" Legolas hissed. "Don't you start with that!"

"Then stop acting like it! By the Valar, Legolas, don't you dare freeze me out tonight, of all nights!"

"I am trying," the elf said, through gritted teeth, "to be mature and pretend that this does not matter. At least until I can believe it myself. That's what you and Gimli keep telling me to do. Why can't you leave it alone?"

"Because I know you," Eomer retorted. "I know you've got seventeen ways to kill him with your bare hands. Under all that ice, you've probably got six ways to do it with your teeth alone, you savage. So talk to me!"

"Sweet Eru, is that what you think of me?" Legolas said, his eyes catching fire as his voice dropped to that level of quiet Eomer had learned to equate with absolute fury. "Have no fear, Eomer King, your precious friend is safe from me, now and always. I can't believe you would think that!" The elf crossed to the pile of boots, pulled out his worn leather ones, and began to tug off the pair he wore.

"Wait, what?" Eomer asked. "What did I say now? You told me yourself you'd slit throats happily from here to the Westfold."

"You didn't tell me any of them were kin!" Legolas spat, stamping his feet into the old boots. "Malwyn is your foster mother, is she not?"

Eomer nodded, dumb in the face of this new information. The elf struggled with the buttons on his silver-shot coat, his fingers fumbling in his anger.

"Wulfric, son of Ulfric, is her nephew? That makes him kin." He stopped fighting his clothes for a moment, and stood stark still in the lamplight. "The Sindar are not Kinslayers. Ever."

The word flashed through Eomer's mind like quicksilver. He made the connection. He swore.

"Legolas, my most sincere apologies," he said quietly. "That had never even crossed my mind." He sat down heavily on the bed, heedless of the clutter. "I only meant that I was worried about you, love, about how it must have made you feel. I would never imply that you were capable of that."

The elf nodded stiffly as he threw off his coat and shrugged into the sweater an ambitious Beowyn had knitted for him. The arms were not quite the same length, and the wool was lumpy. It was quite incongruous with his soft leggings, but the elf said nothing as he abandoned the circlet on his hair and plaited it quickly into a loose braid. Then he picked up his weapons harness and whistled for Hroth.

"Where are you going?" Eomer asked. "It's almost midnight."

"For a run," the elf said, sweeping from the room, the hound at his heels.

xxXxx

It was nearing dawn when he returned. The kitchens were busy, and he quietly slipped in, careful not to disturb the bakers as they worked on the day's rations. He managed to scrounge a mug of coffee and with the exhausted dog following him, he made his way back to the King's chamber.

Eomer had tidied the bedchamber and was stretched out in the bed, a book in his hand and the lamp burning brightly. He looked up as the elf came in. Legolas nodded at Hroth, who dropped on his rug with an appreciative grunt, and turned to the man.

"If you expected me to be asleep after that performance, you were sorely mistaken," Eomer said gruffly.

Legolas sipped at his cooling coffee. "I didn't suppose you would be," he replied evenly. "Would it help if I apologized?"

"For what?" Eomer asked. "Running off in the middle of the night, wearing out the poor dog, worrying me?"

"Hroth's fine," Legolas said, sinking into the chair and stretching out his long legs. "It's good for him to run once in a while." He shrugged. "But for the rest, of course."

Eomer sighed. "If you're going to be like that, I'm going to sleep."

Legolas searched the man's face. "How is your sister?" he asked gently.

Eomer grunted. "Read for yourself," he said, waving to the mantelpiece.

"I don't like to read your letters," Legolas told him. "Is Malwyn worried?"

"When isn't Mal worried?" Eomer said. "You've a letter of your own." He smiled at the blank look the elf gave him. "Not from Faramir. She wrote you herself."

Legolas lept up, nearly spilling his coffee in his eagerness to reach the letter. There, in Eowyn's hand, weighted down with the amber necklace, was a letter addressed to him. He picked it up gently and turned it over in his hands, looking wonderingly at Eomer.

"No, I haven't got a clue what it says," Eomer told him. "Go on, the suspense is killing you."

The elf, careful of the seal, opened the letter. Eowyn, as both girl and woman had preferred riding to penmanship, but even with the slightly uneven characters, the words leaped out at him from the page.

_Legolas,_

_As this eventful year draws to it's close, I thank you for all the love and the healing you have given to Eomer. I beg you to forgive my unkindness to you and to accept my best love and wishes for this coming year. If you would allow it, I would write to you again. I wish to know you, and to experience the joy you bring to all your friends. May we begin anew, my dear brother? Faramir and I would come to you and Eomer in the spring if you wish._

_Your sister_

_Eowyn._

In a hastier, messier hand, she had written a postscript.

_Wulfric comes of his own accord. He begged to be released to spend the year's end with his family. I agreed before realizing the position this would put you in. Please forgive me._

Legolas read it twice, falling back into his chair.

"Challenged to a duel?" Eomer asked, watching the look of stunned incredulity on the elf's face.

"She asks me," he looked up at Eomer, and his eyes were the incredible blue of cloudless summer skies, "me, to forgive her! Sweet Eru! She has done nothing!" He read the letter over again. "It this your doing?" he asked Eomer.

"None of mine." Eomer chuckled. "And you could have had this letter last night, if you hadn't run off."

Legolas drew down his brows. "I needed it. I'm sorry. Not just about this," he waved the paper, "but about the whole night." He stood up again, looking around the room. "Where did you put my trinkets?"

"In the chest," Eomer said. "What now?"

"I need to find a little something for Eberth. To make up for my impoliteness last night." He smiled at Eomer. "And to reward him for his faithful delivery of this most important missive."

"You are never impolite," Eomer pointed out. "Especially if it concerns my sister. I told him you were writing to you father. Did you ever get that done? Gilon will be looking for an answer this morning."

"I was busy," Legolas replied, pulling out the jewel casket.

"Destroying all the glassware?" Eoemr asked carelessly. "Working yourself up over nothing?"

"I'm sorry, I should have gone with you to receive Eowyn's messages. But I was terribly worried about your friend Wulfric. It's a long and dangerous walk to the Hall. He might have had an accident that I might inadvertently be blamed for. Since I would have caused it, you see. There are stairs and sharp things on the way. He might have tripped on a flagstone and broken all his bones. Or fallen into the firepit. Or choked on his mead."

"How is his choking on mead your fault?" Eomer asked, his brow creasing.

"It's hard to drink with a crushed throat," the elf pointed out. "Or he could have lost an eye. Have you noticed, Mir, that you can't wink at someone without an eye? I'd hate for that to happen to him. Considering that he is kin, after all. But you can live with only one eye,"

"I am still amazed at how well you're taking all this." Eomer remarked.

Legolas flopped backwards on the bed. He frowned and picked a rolled pair of socks that had wedged beneath his pillow. "He's very handsome," he observed, his voice calm, his fingers crushing the material.

"I've got good taste," Eomer said, taking the jewelry casket and putting the box on the bedside table. "His personality gets a little grating after a while, though. I found his recklessness wildly attractive at first." He sighed. "But he's got no more common sense than a stunned calf, as Uncle said." He shook his head. "Theoden King was not as impressed with him as I was."

"Your uncle intervened?" Legolas asked, sitting up.

"Actually, Wulfric left me." Eomer said, grinning at the elf. "Said I wasn't spontaneous enough for him."

"Stupid, too, then," Legolas mused. He looked down at the ball of socks in his hand. "Where did you say he was sleeping?"

"Why?" Eomer asked, pushing the hair out of his eyes.

"Nothing important," Legolas said, standing up himself and tossing the socks in the air and catching them. "I'm going to give him these for the solstice." His eyes glittered. "Right in his left ear."

"We've talked about this," Eomer protested. "You can't injure him because I used to be involved with him."

"No, now I'm going to do a little damage to him for insulting and hurting you. Nothing that won't heal in time."

Eomer laughed. "I'm not insulted. I'm relieved. I can't imagine spending my life with anyone but you."

Legolas raised an eyebrow. "Then I'm better at convincing you than myself." He shook his head. "It's still there, Mir. But it's back under control." He bent down to kiss the man's forehead. "Why don't you get some sleep? I have some letters to write." He shook his head at his lover. "You shouldn't stay up all night, it's not good for you. We'll talk when you've rested and had something to eat."


	24. Brave

**Important notice:** First, thank you again to everyone who's been reading and enjoying this story. It started as backstory to my Fly on Broken Wings. But something beyond my control has happened and it's taken on a life of it's own. The only way I could stop the characters from going on strike was to let them have their own way and agree to let them have romantic comedy and not tragedy. Since I've made that decision, the story has been working incredibly well. As the poet said, two paths diverged in the woods, and I seem to have taken both. The events leading to Fly are much darker than this, and I'll tell that story when the comic antics of this one are done. Please rest easy, dear readers, Gimli is perfectly safe in this timeline. This chapter is a bit of fluff to make up for my dithering over the past few months. Again, my apologies and my thanks.

_**Brave**_

_And since your history of silence  
Won't do you any good,  
Did you think it would?  
Let your words be anything but empty  
Why don't you tell them the truth?_

_Say what you wanna say_  
_And let the words fall out_  
_Honestly I wanna see you be brave_

_~ Sara Bareilles_

Closing the door softly behind him, Legolas quickly crossed to the desk and lit a candle. He rummaged through the scraps of paper, and then stopped, wondering just what he would say. He pushed thoughts of Eomer's dark haired lover firmly aside in favour of the more pleasing and terrifying business of writing to his golden sister instead.

Of the two, Eowyn was the more important. Wulfric he could and would deal with in his own time and his own way. But this new chance with Eowyn, to heal the breach he had caused between the siblings, that filled his mind and heart to the exclusion of all else. Legolas hated the pain it caused Eomer, even though the man would never blame either of them. Eomer treated the relationship between his lover and his sister as he would treat a spell of bad weather, something that had to be endured. Eventually they would get to know each other and Eomer merely spoke cheerfully of each to the other. Eomer had hope and patience and was willing to wait and allow them to come to terms with each other. And that was as much as he would say to either of them. They would have to work things out between themselves.

Legolas, at first out of consideration for her distress over what he might know, and then from the tumultuous events in the first weeks of his relationship with Eomer, had never been easy with Eowyn, and she had avoided him just as assiduously. The elf read the letter again, and wondered briefly at what had caused her to change her mind about him. Then he shook his head. It didn't matter. He wasn't going to waste this opportunity. Flowery phrases tumbled through his mind in flowing Sindarin and he knew anything he just put to paper as he thought of it would be incoherent and jumbled and he wanted to explain to her, to thank her, for all that had gone before and what she was doing now. The light in Eomer's eyes had been worth everything to him. This letter must be perfect. He stretched like a cat, then gathered his materials and sat down at the desk, mind churning.

When a concerned Malwyn brought the breakfast tray in, she found Legolas at the desk, writing furiously, the candle burned down, his braid uncharacteristically fuzzy down his back and the elf himself smelling faintly of wet sheep. He acknowledged her gentle tap, barely looking up from the sheet of paper before him.

"My lord Prince!" she exclaimed, the cold air hitting her skin. "It's freezing in here!" She put the tray on the table and re-lit the charcoal in the brazier beside the desk.

"Is it?" Legolas asked, looking up in surprise. "I'm sorry, Lady Malwyn, I must have let it go out."

She lay a worried hand on his shoulder. "And you're damp!" she told him, feeling the wet wool of his sweater. "My Lord Prince, I do not have time to nurse you right now, not with Yule right around the corner!"

He shook his head at her. "Please, my lady, not you too? And I don't get sick."

"It must be uncomfortable at best. Is that the sweater my girl made you?" She raised a brow. "Well, she'll improve, I hope. Anyway, off with it, my lad, and into something dry. Your shirt's probably soaked through as well."

"As soon as I finish this," he assured her, turning back to his letter. "It's too pressing to let it wait."

"To your father?" she asked, opening the bedchamber door. "Then I'll just get you something myself. Come on, now! Out of that, it'll only take a moment." He sighed, giving into the note of command in her voice. She shook her head at the noise coming from the bed. "By the Valar, that boy can snore!"

"It's a gentle purr compared to the dragon roar of the dwarf in full force. He was up all night, though," Legolas admitted, pulling the damp sweater over his head. Malwyn came out with one of his clean cotton shirts and a sweater of Eomer's. She bundled up the damp wool and silk he handed her, and put it into the basket of laundry from the bedroom to take to the wash house on her way back to the kitchens.

"I know," she said, handing him the dry clothes. "I heard you come in." He shrugged into the dry shirt, tugging the sweater down while she opened the curtains, letting in the pale winter sunlight. "A word in your ear, lad?" she asked cautiously, turning to face him.

He looked longingly at the paper, burying his frustration at the interruptions. "Of course. And I must apologize for my behaviour last night, my lady. I was not quite myself."

"No, you were very much yourself last night," she corrected him. She smiled at him, full of warmth and acceptance. "You are what you are, Legolas. Don't deny it to make him happy. You'll only make both of you miserable."

He blushed and looked down. "It was a lapse of self control, Malwyn. It could have been dangerous to everyone, especially your nephew," he said softly.

She chucked at him gently and lifted his chin so his eyes met her. "You are dangerous, my lad. It's in your blood. It's part of your charm that you are so soft spoken and polite and yet as deadly as well honed steel underneath. Self control takes time. I'm still working on it myself. Wulfric never will, I fear. For what it's worth to you, I think you did well." She turned and refilled his empty coffee mug. "However, if that's what your father's like on a daily basis, I'd like you send him my greetings and respect. Never too early to start getting on his good side," she grinned, nodding at his letter.

"I will, as soon as I get to it," he promised her. "This is more important. It's to the Lady Eowyn." He waved over the pages covered in his neat Tengwar characters.

"Lad, she won't be able to read that," Malwyn pointed out, patting down a stray hair escaping from his braid. He allowed it, having acclimated himself to her mothering ways. He was only grateful she didn't insist he stop and take a bath to warm up.

"Oh, I know," he responded, smiling brightly up at her, looking so young he nearly broke her heart. "I want to make sure I get it right, then translate it to Westron. She wrote to me, you know," he told her, still with a touch of wonder in his voice. "She wants to be friends. Do you know what this means to him?" He nodded towards the closed bedroom door. "I can't think of anything kinder she could have done for him, and I want her to know how much I appreciate it, this chance she's given me."

"I'm sure whatever you say will be right," Malwyn told him, patting him on the shoulder once more, resisting the urge to embrace him. "You should be friends with her. You're both very much alike, underneath." She left him, wicker basket riding comfortably on her hip.

He was putting down his phrases into a good copy in Westron when he heard Gimli's familiar bang on the study door.

"Come!" he called, not bothering to get up, his sweater sleeves rolled up to keep them from smudging his ink. He and Eomer were well matched in height, but the man's clothes were always too big for him, to accommodate Eomer's greater bulk.

"I hope you're happy," Gimli grumbled, stamping into the room. "You worried everyone last night with your antics. Running out in the snow like that! Don't think I don't know about that! And Eomer had to make your excuses to Eberth and all, since you were asked for specifically. I've half a mind to...are you listening to me, lad?"

"Yes, you're disappointed in me," Legolas said absently, writing industriously.

"Not disappointed as much as worried," Gimli said, helping himself to the coffee. Malwyn had placed it conveniently close to the brazier so it was still lukewarm. "I admit, I am pleased you didn't just grab for your knives the way you usually do." He sipped, his eyes on the blond head bent over his work. "But you can't just sneak up on him either. Wouldn't be fair. And it did give you the opportunity to find out he's the Lady's nephew. The last thing we need is you starting another blood feud in Rohan." He picked up a cold piece of fried bread and sat down at the table. "Would be an insult to the Lady Eowyn as well, him being her envoy and all."

Legolas nodded without turning his head, dipped his pen into the cold ink and continued writing as the dwarf took a bite of the bread. Gimli chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

"She's well, the Lady Eowyn," Gimli continued, watching the elf carefully. "I'm sure Eomer told you."

"Gimli, friend of my heart," Legolas said, ruefully pulling himself away from his work, "she sent me a personal message of my very own. Right here." He waved at the paper set at the top of the desk. "It was the greatest blessing of the season. I am endeavouring to reply to it. You are not making it any easier."

Gimli's bearded face could not hide the grin. "That's wonderful, lad!" he exclaimed. "It's about time you made up whatever is was that you did to the poor lady. Do you need any help?"

Legolas beamed back at his friend. "I am literate, Gimli. I just want to make sure that it's exactly right."

"That's what I mean, elf. I do have a way with words, you know." Gimli preened a bit as he took another bite of the bread.

"Thank you, my friend," Legolas answered, his tone serious, his eyes dancing. "But I'm sure you can appreciate that it is a somewhat private matter?"

"Of course, of course," Gimli said, popping the last of the bread in his mouth as he stood up and brushed the crumbs from his beard. He swallowed and looked seriously at the elf. "Speaking of private matters," he went on, his voice low, "is everything all right with you?" he asked, tilting his head to indicate the bedroom door.

Legolas sighed. "It will be. He wants to talk. I don't know that I do, not right now. He's worried about me."

"So am I," Gimli said. He reached out and buffeted the elf on the arm. "You did well last night, Legolas. You kept yourself in check and I know how hard that was for you. I'm proud of you," he finished gruffly.

"Gimli," Legolas began, touched, but the dwarf had turned towards the study door.

"You finish your letter. I've got a little more work to do on the throwboard I'm making for the Lady Malwyn. Never saw such a lady for the gambling," he said as he left the room.

xxXxx

_Lady Eowyn,_

_My kindest and sweetest of sisters, will, I pray, forgive the inadequacies of this letter and allow me to express the gratitude that flows from my heart like the waters of the River Isen. I have not the words to define the feelings of elation and the comfort that your most welcome message brought to me. I am overcome with emotion. Dearest sister, please be assured I have never suffered any unkindness at your noble hands and it has been my deepest regret that I have ever been the source of any unease to yourself. I thank you for this opportunity to make good all the wrongs I have caused you and as you have so generously offered, to make a new beginning between us._

_Even beyond your great understanding and tenderness to me, beloved sister, the happiness this has brought to your brother creates such an obligation in me as you cannot imagine. He loves you so, my cherished sister, and you bring so much joy to his life. Your courage and wisdom inspire him and your love supports him through difficult times. He speaks of you so often with such concern for your opinions that you guide him even during your absence. Edoras is always your first home and your own rooms here at Meduseld are kept ready for you at all times so that whenever you may wish to grace us with your longed for presence you will be most welcomed and celebrated by the whole of Rohan. I would gladly be your friend, Eowyn. It has always been my fondest wish and intention. If I can return to you even the smallest part of the joy you have given me this day, my life will have been well spent. I hope we may always be in harmony not only for your own sweet sake, my sister, but also for him whom we both love so dearly._

_I must and will apologize again for being the cause of trouble between you. Please believe that it was never my intention to come between you and I have regretted every moment that you and he have spent in discord. It has all been due to my own unthinking actions._

_I have never had a sister before and find myself overcome with delight at the prospect. I beg you will accept this small token of my affection and esteem. The elves say that amber will glow when warmed by the spirit of the person who wears it and I can find no more fitting tribute to the golden nature of your character. I trust you will forgive the awkwardness of these few words, and receive instead the intent in which they were set down, by the hand of your loving brother,_

_Legolas_

xxXxx

"Mir? Mir nin, wake up," the elf said, sitting with calculated heaviness on the bed beside the sleeping man. Eomer grunted and pulled the pillow over his head.

"It's almost noon, Mir," Legolas pointed out, tugging at the pillow. "Time you were awake. Things to take care of and all."

Eomer rolled over to his back and opened one eye. He stared at the elf through the curtains of his golden hair. "What?" he asked wearily. "What have you done now?"

"Me?" Legolas asked, pushing the man's hair back and kissing him softly on his eyebrow. "I've been very busy."

"Oh, Valar, who's dead now?" Eomer said, pushing himself up on his elbows. He blinked hard and crinkled up his nose.

"What are you talking about?" Legolas asked. "Nobody's dead. At least, I haven't heard yet if anyone did die in the night."

"I think I was dreaming," Eomer said pushing back his hair and looking around. "No bodies falling from the rafters?"

Legolas pulled away. "I don't think I like this," he said. "I would never hide a body in the roof. Why would you hide a body? Once it's dead, it's dead. The smell would give it away almost immediately. You just leave it and move on to the next enemy. Who has time to hide them?"

"No, I'm having a nightmare." Eomer fell back to the mattress, rolled back over and pulled the blanket up to his ears. "I'll talk to you when I'm awake. This isn't making any sense."

Legolas got off the bed and fetched the mugs from the tray on the table. "I don't know why you're blaming me when you're the one having the ridiculous dreams, Mir. Come on, Malwyn sent up some of her special yule tea. It's mint with honey and a special treat, so don't waste it."

Eomer groaned and sat up. "Why are you so bloody cheerful?" he asked. "You've not slept yet, have you?" He accepted the mug and gulped down the hot brew. Legolas watched him while he sipped from his own mug and settled beside the man.

Eomer's choked as he swallowed and tears formed in his eyes. Legolas regarded him steadily.

"It's a little strong," Eomer sputtered. "And she's changed the mix."

"Beowyn made it for you," Legolas told him. "I don't think she got it quite right. I'll have to let her know. The kitchens are incredibly noisy right now, with Malwyn everywhere at once supervising everything, not to mention the stalled ox, and I think Beowyn may have misheard the direction for peppermint. I'd already made coffee, so I didn't get a chance to taste it," he added, sipping again at his own steaming mug.

"Thank you for the commentary, meleth nin." Eomer said, dabbing at his eyes with the pillowcase. "Now that you have my undivided attention, what's going on?"

"Well, I wrote my letters, then went to see Eberth. He forgave me my lapse in diplomacy. Then I met with Gilon, he left about an hour ago for Mirkwood. He asked me to pass on his respects to you."

"That was kind. Do you think you explained things to your father the way you wanted?" Eomer asked, taking the coffee from the elf and draining it.

"I did tell Gilon to spread the word to everyone along the way that when they see a giant elk they are under no circumstances to try and take it down," Legolas replied with a shrug. "Father does what he wants. I can't stop him. I also warned him about the wine. It wasn't a very long letter."

"What's wrong with the wine? We can get some in from Gondor." Eomer said, lying back on the pillows. "You didn't have to wake me up for all this."

"We need Dorwinion, if my father's going to be here. Lots of it." Eomer groaned.

"You can water it down, you know," Legolas told him, matter-of-factly. "It might keep you from the hangover. That's what we're doing with it for the yule feast."

"Now you tell me," Eomer said. "It seems like you've got everything in hand, Legolas." He yawned. "Why don't you give me another hour or so."

"No, I need to run to Ithilien over the next couple of days. I think I can be back by Yule without Gimli to slow me down. So you need to look after things here."

Eomer sat straight up in the bed. "You have lost your mind! You are not running to Ithilien and back in five days. What's the matter with you?"

Legolas frowned, his brows drawn down. "Gilon wouldn't make the detour for me. He said that even my orders wouldn't contravene the King's. He didn't mean you."

"I got that," Eomer said, his eyes darkening. "Is this about Eowyn's letter?"

"Certainly. I want her to receive an answer as quickly as possible. It's too important, and I'm the only one who can make the trip there and back in time. It's only common sense."

"It's elven nonsense," Eomer sputtered. "You need to think this through. What are we doing tomorrow?"

"Hanging greenery in the hall." Legolas said automatically.

"With the children. What are we doing the next day?"

"Dragging in the log," Legolas recited.

"Which the children will ride on." Eomer pointed out. "Do you really think Eowyn would have you disappoint the children so that she can get a message a few days early? She understands." He waved the empty mug. The elf took it and refilled it. Eomer took it from him. "And Gimli will finally tan your hide the way he's been threatening to do since I met you." He sipped at the coffee. "What's this really about?"

The elf ran his hands over his hair, and paced back and forth. "Eowyn. I can't mess this up again, Mir. She's given me such a gift, I want her to know how much it means to me. I thought, I hoped that she would learn to tolerate me for your sake, at best." He looked at Eomer with wide blue eyes. "She's offered her friendship, and in such a gracious and kind manner, how can I even think about delaying my response to her?"

"You haven't. You've written to her, and as soon as we find a messenger willing to go to Ithilien, you send it." Eomer shrugged. "I know this means a lot to you, Legolas, but I refuse to allow you to leave me over Yule."

The elf's face softened. "I'd be back for you, Mir," he said.

Eomer shook his head. "No. It's our first one together. You stay here." A thought crossed his mind. "How long was the letter?" he asked, his hazel eyes sparkling.

"Fourteen pages." Legolas told him. Eomer rubbed his temple. "But that was in Sindarin," Legolas went on. "In Westron it was much shorter."

Eomer shook his head. "Poor Eowyn. She doesn't realize what she's getting herself into," he joked. "Let me guess, it's all formality and compliments and polite as hell."

Legolas sat down beside him. "This isn't funny. Is that wrong?"

"No, love, it's just you," Eomer said, pulling him into a rough hug. "I'm going to send a little note along with it, that's all. She'll come to appreciate your unique style."

"Do you think so?" Legolas asked, worried. "I could re-write it, if you think that's best."

"Don't you change a word," Eomer teased, whispering into his ear. "My sister deserves to know the real you, all the muddled up elfness that makes you who you are. And you will learn to appreciate her temper, her pride and her way of telling her brother exactly what she thinks." He chuckled. "I can't wait for your first fight."

"I want to gang up with her and tell you to look after yourself," Legolas said, relaxing back into the man. "Instead of you and Gimli and Malwyn always coming after me." He kicked off his boots and pulled his legs up.

"Mal spoils you shamelessly," Eomer protested. "She's much harder on me."

"That's because you're older than I am," Legolas said, with a wry grin. "She thinks I'm barely twenty. While you are a venerable twenty-six."

"Gimli explained it to her that way, over some wine one night," Eomer told him. "She had a bit of trouble with the two thousand odd years, so she just adjusted her mind to your age if you were of the Rohirrim. She's a nice lady, love, don't upset her too much."

"I know. Gimli also implied that I was a bit simple in the head," Legolas laughed. "Too many years of fighting spiders in the Mirkwood have softened my brains when it comes to dealing with anyone other than elfkind. It explains the sympathetic looks I get from people in the town."

"No, those are because people know that you live with a bear like me," Eomer replied ruefully. "You may not notice it, love, but the folk appreciate both you and Master Gimli very much. They take heart from the selfless way you both dedicate yourselves to them and their well being." He tightened his arms around the elf. "There's a song going around, you're probably going to hear it over the festivities," he said, an odd catch in his voice.

"Is this going to be like the Pelennor Fields one? Where Eowyn and Merry came and swept all away before them with bright lights and trumpets of glory?" Legolas asked.

"Something like that," Eomer admitted. His voice was somewhere between embarrassment and mirth.

"What?" Legolas asked, turning his head to look at him. "How bad can it be?"

"You're described as silver haired and steely eyed," Eomer admitted, a trace of colour in his cheeks. "The dread beauty from the north is how I think it goes."

"Stop," Legolas said, holding back a giggle. "Who wrote this?"

"How would I know?" Eomer protested. "You know how songs happen. Anyway, you and Gimli..."

"The Hairy Menace of Erebor?" Legolas asked, his eyes alight.

"If you don't want to hear this, that's fine," Eomer said, as he rolled and tumbled the elf to the other side of the bed. "Don't say I didn't warn you." He reached for the coffee cup again.

"No, no," Legolas pleaded, scrambling to sit cross legged, his face full of rapt attention. "Please, Eomer King, tell me the embarrassing parts. I'll be good."

"You and Gimli," Eomer paused, but Legolas made no comment, so Eomer continued, "after seeing Aragorn on his rightful throne and rebuilding the White City, look about to see what else in the world you can fix."

"Singlehandedly, of course," Legolas added, nodding. Eomer rolled his eyes up at him.

"Gimli and Eowyn are great friends, and he promises her that he will do everything in his power to restore her beloved homeland when she marries Faramir."

"Is Faramir steely eyed, too?" Legolas asked, his own eyes wide in feigned awe.

"No, he's desperately handsome and daring and brave and swears he will follow Eowyn to the ends of the earth, giving up his station and his duty. But she can't let him do that, and as he's the only man worthy of her love, she follows him to Ithilien, although her heart will always be in the Rohan. Six verses of it," Eomer noted.

Legolas rested his chin on his hands, elbows on knees. "That's quite the declaration," he said. "Let me guess, you are the noble and broken king, left alone, thinking you will never have love or renown, even though you managed to squeeze in a few daring deeds in the war. The ones Gimli and I and Eowyn hadn't gotten to yet, I mean."

Eomer laughed. "It's horrible, isn't it."

"I have a feeling it's going to get worse." Legolas grinned. "Do I sweep in and pick up the pieces, or does Gimli play matchmaker?"

"Oh, no, it's not that easy, love," Eomer said, an odd smile playing about his lips. "Promise me you won't get upset at this part."

"What part?" Legolas asked. "What has my silver haired self done now?"

"It's your personal tragedy. You know how this goes. You must suffer before you are rewarded. It's how all songs go."

Legolas sighed. "Bring it on," he said, stoically. "As long as Gimli doesn't leave me at the altar I think I can handle it."

"You and Gimli, of course are the best of friends, always. But you have become an outcast, since the other elves don't like dwarves, and you are exiled. Your silvan heart freezes at this..,"

"Sindar," Legolas interrupted. "My Sindar heart. I'm a Sindar not Silvan."

Eomer shook his head. "No, your silvan heart goes with your silver hair and steely eyes. I thought we'd established that."

"But I'm not..."

"Look," Eomer broke in, "I know that, you know that, but if my noble and manly tears can fall like rain into the bloodied horsehair of my crest, your silvan heart can turn to ice at the thought of the great trees you leave behind."

"Alright, but..."

"You get wintery pride, too," Eomer told him, forestalling the rest of the elf's argument. "Your northern silvan heart freezes in remembrance of all you have lost, you see. All you care about is Gimli and your only comfort is your cold pride. It sustains you like the frozen mountains of the home you will never see again."

"Mirkwood is a forest," Legolas put in. "The dwarf comes from the mountain. And how are the great trees growing on a glacier? Evergreens, perhaps?"

"A few of the details have obviously been mixed up. Let it go."

"I'm just saying that we're going to have to add geography to the children's lessons." The elf reached for the coffee, took a sip. "So I am a proud icicle in exile, missing giant trees that miraculously grow in frozen tundra, consoling myself with the friendship of the dwarf, and perhaps plotting the downfall of the elven races?" His voice took on a gleeful tone. "Am I evil in this, Mir?"

"One day I'm going to write a song about what you're really like. The problem is, no one will ever believe me. Except Gimli." Eomer said, exasperated, taking the cup back. He drained it and looked sorrowfully at the bottom. Legolas laughed and took the hint, filling both mugs and bringing them back to the bed. Eomer held them as the elf settled himself, cross legged, and took his back.

"Has Gimli heard this?" Legolas asked, as Eomer took a drink from his mug. "What does he think of all this northern mountains business?"

"You can go and ask him, if you like." Eomer said, raising an eyebrow. "I think he enjoyed the parts where he was the magnanimous keeper of oaths and healer of lands."

Legolas whistled. "Oh, he would love that! Alright, Mir, go on. What are you and I doing while Gimli fixes everything?"

"Brooding," Eomer said shortly. His face darkened. "I go wandering about the plains weeping like a child at the ruin of my lands, and you look down that perfect nose of yours with icy disdain for everything and everyone."

"I wish we'd had time for that," Legolas told him, reaching out to pat Eomer's knee. "We were pretty busy, as I recall, relocating people, moving food stores, that kind of thing." He leaned over and kissed the corner of Eomer's frown. "And your love for your people is nothing to be ashamed of." Eomer grinned at the elf, his eyes brightening. "Now go on." Legolas urged.

"So, the hatred that has been building between us since we first met continues to grow, of course," Eomer went on. "As I feel you are mocking me and you think I'm a weak sort of thing. It does start to worry Gimli, who knows that we need to learn to work together. Considering that his oaths are binding on you as well as him, and he did promise Eowyn, who I'm assuming is having a wonderful time in Ithilien with Faramir, while you and I glare daggers at each other and offer veiled insults."

"This is fascinating," Legolas remarked. "Why did we start to hate each other when we first met? I missed that bit."

"Because you threatened to kill me the first time we met. Before your stroke fell and all that?" Eomer said.

"Only because you were being intolerably rude," Legolas retorted. "You can't hold that against me." He shook his head. "Malwyn was appalled at your bad manners when I told her about it."

"I did apologize to all three of you, if you remember," Eomer said. "I even gave you Arod."

"He was a very effective bribe, and a very good friend, Mir, so I thank you once again," Legolas said, with a little bow, his hand covering his heart. "What happens next?"

"Even though you and I seethe whenever we see each other, we agree to work together, thanks to the wise counsel of our dwarven friend. But, eventually, our pride leads us to blows." Legolas nodded.

"I thought that was coming. Three days and nights of swordplay? That's customary, isn't it?"

Eomer laughed. "You'd turn me to mincemeat in ten minutes. I've seen you with the knives. But yes. Apparently my people have great faith in me to keep you under control," he chuckled.

"And in the respect that follows the draw, for of course neither can prevail against the other, we fall in love?" Legolas asked, looking at Eomer over the rim of his mug.

"That part's kind of nice, actually," Eomer said softly. "Your icy heart melts in the heat of the passion of the southern warrior and the broken pieces of mine are reforged in it's flames."

"That is nice," Legolas replied thoughtfully. "And then we all live happily ever after?"

"Pretty much," Eomer said. "There's some drinking at the end of it, and more about Gimli, of course. It's a long song, takes at least a couple of hours to get through."

"That's a ditty in elvendom." Legolas told him. "But it's popular, you say? Do you think people will really be singing it for a long time? At festivals and things?"

"I think so. I hope you don't mind it too much," Eomer said.

"No, I'm looking forward to it," Legolas smiled, and leaned over to kiss Eomer softly. "Thank you for telling it to me." He finished his coffee and stood up. "Are you getting up?" he asked, taking the man's empty mug from him and putting it on the tray.

Eomer stretched. "Yes, I think so," he replied, watching the elf pull his boots back on. "Since you're obviously not going to sleep anytime today."

"I've got to ask Malwyn about something," Legolas told him, running a hand over his braid, frowning and quickly undoing it. As he started to brush and replait it, he looked back over at Eomer.

"How do you feel about spending winters in Mirkwood?" he asked.

"What? Where did that come from?" Eomer asked him.

"This song. Between my frozen silvan heart, your bloodstained tears, trees growing in the icy mountains and Gimli's being the saviour of the world, I think you may just have found something that might kill my father," Legolas laughed.


	25. Cold As It Gets

_**Cold As It Gets**_

_I am the one who crawled through the wire_  
_ I am the one who crawled through the wire_

_There's a million sad stories on the side of the road  
Strange how we all just got used to the blood  
Millions of stories that'll never be told  
Silent and froze in the mud  
Silent and froze in the mud_

_~ Patty Griffin__  
_

"But Malwyn, you've been dressing him for years!" Legolas protested, following the chatelaine through the kitchens as she wiped her hands on her apron and moved on to taste a sauce.

"I've got no time, lad," she told him honestly. She licked the spoon thoughtfully then added a pinch of spice to the pot, nodding at the cook. "You see what it's like in here."

"A pattern? Measurements? There must be something," the elf begged over the clanging of pots.

Malwyn huffed at him impatiently. "Just go and get an old one from his chest, cut it apart and use that as a pattern." She looked him up and down. "You can sew?"

"No," he told her, colour rising in his cheeks as she threw up her hands in annoyance. "Do you know of someone? A woman who would be happy for the work? I can pay well," he pleaded.

The idea had come to him suddenly, and he realized now that he might have done much better to simply go with what he had originally planned. It had begun nagging at the back of his mind since Gilon had arrived with his wardrobe, and the more the elf thought about it, now that he had the means, the more it seemed like the perfect Yule present for Eomer. Gift giving among the Rohirrim was informal and happened gradually over the days leading up to the Yule itself, but Legolas found himself obsessed with the idea, now that his letter to Eowyn was finished. Some tiny part of his mind realized it was another way of putting off the larger problem hanging over his head, that of Wulfric lurking about the hall, and what he was going to do about him. Or to him, if it came to that. And now here he was badgering the busy headwoman with his foolishness, shoving the emotions down instead of trying to deal with them.

She took pity on him. "I know someone, a widow, she'll be able to help you" Malwyn said, shaking her head. She turned to beckon to her newest apprentice. "Go get what you need, Legolas, and I'll have Beowyn take you down to her place. The girl needs a bit of a break. She's been working herself to a frazzle down here. And take that hound with you," she ordered, motioning to Hroth. "I'll have a bone for him later on, but he's just getting tangled up in people's feet right now!"

"Thank you! Thank you!" Legolas shouted over the hubbub as he bolted back out the kitchen door and up the stairs to his rooms, Hroth at his heels. The room was empty and he was grateful Eomer had taken himself off somewhere else. The question of _where_ fluttered across his brain and he instantly buried it. He shut the door the bedchamber behind him and startled rifling through his new chest immediately, flinging clothes on the bed as he searched for what he needed.

xXx

Eomer was in the Great Hall, hail fellow and well met with everyone he saw. Which, considering the time of year, were actually very few. It was amazing how quickly his warriors had disappeared once Malwyn had ascended from the kitchens to put every man she could find to work. Those not quick enough to find errands elsewhere were now cleaning out the firepits, scrubbing the trestles, sweeping debris and dust and chasing spiderwebs. Higa and Eothain had been brought in to move the heavy chairs from the dais and one of the women was taking her brush and pan to the steps and the rugs with a vengance.

Eomer spotted Wulfric, his dark hair tied back, beating dust out the banners with a long broom. He narrowed his eyes and went over to him.

xXx

Beowyn knocked loudly on the study door. She was wrapped in sweaters, scarves and shawls and was looking forward to her walk with Legolas. In her mind the changes for the good in her life had started when the tall elf had stopped at their side yard. She always liked to tell him all her news first and, in her eleven year old mind, wanted to start to look after him the way Malwyn did for the king. The first full sweater she'd made all by herself had been for Legolas, and she had nearly burst with pride when he'd appeared in it in the Great Hall itself, wearing it the same day she'd given it to him, telling everyone of the kindness of her gift to him.

She had overheard, accidentally of course, some of Gimli and Malwyn's conversation in the kitchens when the dinners were over and the dishes cleaned away. With the preparations for the morning underway, Gimli would stop by for a mug of ale with Malwyn and the chatelaine would pull out her ancient thowboard, a gift from her first man, so very long ago in the child's eyes. She and the dwarf would play dice for small things, matchsticks usually. Malywn would even share a pipe with the dwarf once in a while, and Beowyn, knitting quietly by the fire, would not exactly eavesdrop, since that was rude, but she did stay very quiet, trying to blend into the background. Malwyn had said that a good chatelaine had to know everyone and everything that was going on. Beowyn had decided that she was going to be the best headwoman Meduseld ever had when Malwyn was ready to step down. So she didn't share what she heard, especially about the elf and the king, which seemed to be a favourite topic of both Malwyn and Gimli.

She also learned, from the way the way the blushing dwarf reacted to something Malwyn had once said to him, that Gimli had pledged his heart to a beautiful and unobtainable lady, like one of the great lords in the old stories and ballads. It gave the dwarf a sort of tragic romance she'd never have seen on her own. It was both sad and thrilling to her, since it meant Gimli would never have children of his own. But Fritha was as attached to him as if he were her own Da, and there wasn't a child in Edoras that he did not have the time to sit down and visit with. But the beautiful lady must have been quite wonderful, she thought, for Gimli to give his heart away like that.

Legolas was more than a friend to Gimli as well, the girl realized. He was like a brother, a son, a favourite nephew and a friend all rolled into one. The lad, he always called him, just as Malwyn called Eomer King her lad. Only Malwyn could get away with that. She'd heard the stories about Malwyn too, how sad her life had been, how both her men had died, leaving her alone. She'd never had children of her own either. So in some ways, Malwyn and Gimli were like parents to all of them, all of the orphans. Legolas and Eomer King were sort of orphans themselves, the clever girl determined, although very important ones. It made perfect sense that the dwarf and headwoman would fuss over the elf and king as if they were their own children. But Beowyn's first allegiance would always be to the elf. She had even daydreamed about marrying him once, in that way young girls have of showing approval for the men in their lives. It would be nice to be married to Legolas, she thought, always so tidy and kind and considerate.

But today he was slow in answering the door and she rapped again, harder. Malwyn had told her he was in a hurry, and then, with a funny sort of laugh, told her to help him if he could, since he was out of his depth. Beowyn had trouble believing that. In her hero-worshiping eyes, Legolas would never be out of his depth.

He opened the door and a smile lit his face as he motioned her into the room. Beowyn stopped to wait at the door to the bedchamber, but he motioned her on. She'd never been in there, it had always been Malwyn's rule that the King's Bedchamber was off limits to anyone not accompanied by her. But since it was Legolas who called her in, she went, marveling at the splendor in the room. Her quick eyes took in everything, from the silver wash basin, to Eomer's golden armor, the thick bed curtains, and the pile of boots stacked up beside the press Legolas was dragging things out of. His hands were full, and he motioned for her to take the collection of fabric from him.

He had several piles on the bed already, and she looked with longing eyes at the beauty of the silk, the softness of the cloth in her hands. Legolas turned to face her.

"When you have stopped growing, Beowyn, I promise you shall have a gown of the finest silk," the elf told her, noting her eyes. "But today, we must concentrate on Eomer King. I want to have something made for him for a Yule gift."

"You have left it rather late, Legolas," she told him in her blunt way. "But Aelwyn was always a very fine seamstress and she did work for Theoden King sometimes. She's very nice. If anyone can manage it, it will be her."

"I am relieved to hear it." Legolas told her, as he took the material from her and wadded it up in an old nightshirt. It was faded and worn, and the contrast made Beowyn giggle.

"You see what I am about," he said with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes that matched hers.

"Not at all," she told him, touching the side of her nose, taking the bundle from him. Then her face turned thoughtful. "Did you get candles for her as well?"

"Candles?" he asked, heedlessly stuffing the piles of rejected clothes back into the press and closing it. The girl sighed at his carelessness with such finery.

"She'll need good light, Legolas. Especially since the days are so short." Beowyn pointed out. "And you should take better care of your things."

"What would I do without you, Beowyn?" he asked her, rummaging through the cupboard. He pulled out a box of candles, the best beeswax. "Will these do?" he asked her seriously.

"I should think so!" Beowyn told him. "She could sew all night with those!" But the elf's attention was caught by the beside lamp.

"What about a lamp instead?" he asked the girl. "Would that be better for her?"

Beowyn shrugged, smiling at him. He was absolutely adorable in that helpless man sort of way, she thought, the words of her mentor echoing in her head. "Bring both. She'll be able to tell you."

Legolas took the lamp, rummaging a bit more found the bottle of oil for it and he nodded at the girl. They left by the kitchen entrance to Meduseld, hoping not to run into Eomer.

xXx

"It's been a long time since we had a drink together, Eomer King," Wulfric said, raising his ale.

"That is has, Wulfric," Eomer said, clinking his tankard against the man's. His eyes held a curious light.

xXx

"It's very exciting, being in Edoras for Yule," Beowyn told the elf as they walked down the streets, carefully clutching the clothes against her chest. "We never had such baking in the Westfold, you know. But we did have the big feast. And the log. I'm going to ride it this year, but I think it'll be my last," she said, a little wistfully.

"Are you getting to be to old for it, Beowyn?" he asked seriously. "Is it really only for the small children?"

"They say the Lady Eowyn rode it when she was thirteen," Beowyn told him, in a conspiratorial tone. "But you know, she's such a great lady and warrior and may do as she likes. It's not for me to be as important as she is."

"Beowyn, you are just as important as the Lady Ewoyn," Legolas told her, a frown drawing down his brows. "Don't ever think you're not. Every single person is important." Hroth, walking beside him, pricked up his ears at the elf's tone.

"I know that, Legolas," she scolded. "I meant it wouldn't be right for me to try and be a great Shieldmaiden." He could hear the capital letter in her voice, inflections of awe. "I'm going to be a nurse you know." Her face lit up at the thought. "And maybe headwoman, some day," she added softly, giving voice to her secret dream.

"You will excel in whatever you do, clever and quick as you are," Legolas said. "Look to the Lady Malwyn for your example. I can think of no one better for a role model for you."

Beowyn sighed. "I know. She's wonderful, isn't she? She just takes charge and everyone listens. When I first came to the hall, I was so scared of everything, so many people and so much going on all the time, and she just gave me a big hug, and said, 'Alright, my girl, you just follow me around and you'll find your feet in no time'. And she was absolutely right. And now I know my duties, and she's even letting me look after some of the babies, and making sure that I learn to read. I don't always get to the school, so she makes lessons for me with recipes and lists. Writing is hard though." The girl frowned a bit.

"You'll find it's like riding," Legolas told her, smiling. "Once your fingers gain the skill, you'll never forget."

"Here, Aelwyn is right past this house," Beowyn told him, leading him to the door. He knocked politely and waited. There was a query from within.

Beowyn opened the door a crack and called in. "Aelwyn? It's Beowyn and Legolas from the Hall. He's some work he needs done and Lady Malwyn says you're just the woman for the job," she said, opening the door wider and ushering the elf and dog inside. Hroth waited just inside the door, which Beowyn shut against the cold.

Legolas had been expecting an older woman. It was the term widow he realized. There were far too many widows these days. Aelwyn was a pretty blonde with bright eyes and a wide smile. She was in her middle years at most and invited them in warmly.

"Beowyn, child, how you're growing!" she said, giving the girl a brief hug. "You'll come to me in the summer for a new dress, promise me, now. Your old ones will be too short."

"As long as Lady Malwyn agrees," Beowyn said. "This is Legolas," she told the woman simply, waving at him in a vague kind of way.

"My Lord Prince," Aelwyn said, bowing her head and blushing a bit at the direct look the elf gave her. Legolas had that effect on people, Beowyn had noticed. It was the way his eyes never left those of whoever he was speaking with.

"Please, Mistress Aelwyn, it's just Legolas. I find myself in a dilemma that Lady Malwyn assures me only you can help me with." His voice was soft and there was a note of entreaty in it. Aelwyn raised her head, curiosity filling her face.

Now that was typical Legolas, Beowyn thought. He's made her feel like she's the most important person to him right now. She'll do anything for him. It's like how he is with horses. It must be because he's an elf and just asks.

Beowyn opened her bundle and Legolas explained what he wanted. Aelwyn looked over the silks with a critical eye and rummaged through her boxes, looking for proper thread. Legolas let out his breath in relief when she had some that was suitable.

"Buttons?" she asked, looking over the shirts. "Shall I just use these? They seem a little ornate."

"That's not good?" he asked her, raising both eyebrows. Beowyn rolled up her eyes and shook her head behind him, causing the seamstress to smile.

"Not for sleeping in, my lord," Aelwyn told him. "I may have some in plain silver, if that would do."

"That would be fine." A wide grin replaced the nervous look on the elf's face. "Silver will be perfect."

"And you can have it finished by the Yule?" he asked her, just a hint of anxiety in his voice. She was already pulling out her shears and needle case.

"Aye, my lord. With that lamp, it'll be no problem." She smiled up at him. "Next year come earlier, and we can do something really special."

"Is there anything you need from the hall?" the elf asked. "Firewood? Wine?"

"I had heard, my lord, that you might be able to get your hands on some coffee," Aelwyn said, a sparkle in her blue eyes. "A little of that would be most welcome. To help with the work, you see." She winked at him.

"I'll bring it directly," he told her.

xXx

"So you see my situation, Wulfric," Eomer said, pushing back his hair from his eyes.

The dark haired man sighed. "You always did have a taste for the exotic," he said, shaking his head.

xXx

"People like you, Legolas." Beowyn said, as they started back up the hilly streets.

"I like people," Legolas told her, smiling down.

"Did you always like people?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Mostly. Some people take a little getting used to, though." he told her.

"Oh." She tightened her lips, the way Malwyn did when she was thinking, Legolas noticed with delight and then dismay.

"You've heard a song, haven't you, Beowyn?" he asked her gently.

"It's a wonderful song," she enthused. "There's all sorts of interesting bits. I like the part about you melting. It was very thrilling."

The tips of his ears flushed. "It wasn't exactly like the song," he told her. "I wasn't really frozen, you know."

"Gimli is such a hero!" Beowyn continued. "How he went into exile with you. How did you become such good friends?"

Legolas sighed. "Some days I ask myself the same question," he said, with just a hint of sarcasm.

"And will you really never see your home again?" she asked, not sure if she wanted the answer to be yes for her or no for his sake. It was a question all the children had come by to ask her, in their various ways, since the other elf's hasty arrival and departure.

"This is my home," Legolas told her, waving an arm to encompass the city. "Here in the Rohan. With all of you."

"But your father, Gimli says he's really frightening. And that elf, Gilon, he came from your father. You still have to do what he says, don't you? Since he's your king?" The girl's questions tumbled out in a rush.

Legolas sighed. "It's that barrel story again, isn't it?" She nodded. He stopped and sat on his heels so she wouldn't have to look up at him. "Beowyn, I live here now. I wasn't exiled, I wanted to travel and see the world. All the people I love are here. Gimli, Eomer King, Lady Malwyn, you and all the other children. Even Hroth and Arod." He gave the dog a rough rub behind his ear. "Every day I make new friends. Aragorn and Arwen are a short way away when I would like to see them. The Lady Eowyn and Lord Faramir are close as well. And I'll tell you a secret. My father is coming for a visit. He wouldn't want me to go back to Mirkwood if it would make me unhappy. It would, because I am very content here. So you see, nothing bad happened to me." He tucked a strand of her golden hair back under her head scarf. "Sometimes songs and stories make things sound worse than they are so that the ending is happier."

"But Eomer King really was broken and lonely before you and Gimli came." she said, reaching out to take his hand in her mitten. "That part of the song is true. I saw him, when they brought us here. He didn't look anything like he does now. He never even smiled, you know."

"Terrible things happened here," Legolas said, not needing to soften the truth for this child of war. "He was worried about all of his people and grieved over all the death and the loss of Theoden King and his cousin. But he was never broken, Beowyn. Eomer King is full of courage and hope. You must never forget that. He wanted to make everything better for everyone. Just like you wanted to make everything better for the children at Thathwyn's. You have that same courage and hope. It shows in the way you help the Lady Malwyn." She nodded at him, her eyes large with understanding. "Gimli and I both wanted to help him make things better here."

"Because of your promise to Lady Eowyn," she asked.

"Not only that," Legolas told her. "Because he is my friend and I love him. Things are always much easier when you have a friend, aren't they?"

She nodded. "Does he have bad dreams?" she asked, her voice quietening.

He tilted his head, puzzled. "Bad dreams?"

"Herroth had awful dreams after the fires," she told him in a whisper, with a darkness in her eyes he understood all too well. "We all did, but his were worst. He would sleep with Thathwyn and that would help. I wondered if Eomer King had them too and that's why you sleep in his room and not Gimli's. All your things are there," she pointed out. "If he did have bad dreams, you would look after him, wouldn't you?" Now that the child's fears had been reassured, the bossy young woman tried to reassert herself.

"Yes," he told her without hesitation. "I will always help him, Beowyn, you needn't worry about that." He gave her mitten a squeeze. "And I'm not going anywhere, so you can put that trouble to rest."

"Thank you," she told him, impulsively wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's just that things really are better with you here, Legolas. Eomer King is so kind and nice now. And I have a secret. too. All of us children have made him something special for Yule."

As they reached Meduseld, Legolas noticed a dark haired man heading to the stables with Eomer. He escorted Beowyn back to Malwyn and collected some coffee for Aelwyn. Then he headed back out into the biting wind, fighting the urge to run.

The problem with being a friendly, interested face, Legolas was coming to realize, meant that in the Rohan folk found themselves telling him all about their lives and treating him as a long lost friend. Aelwyn insisted on his having a cup of coffee with her before heading back out into the cold. Legolas, not wanting to delay her work, made it himself for the both of them, which she apparently took for an invitation to chat as she held up pieces of fabric to his back, measuring them against his height for Eomer's.

"It's not his usual style, that's for sure," she remarked, placing a few strategic pins. "But the cloth is so fine, I'm sure he'll love it. There, now, you sit and drink that before it gets cold." He took the bench, leaving her the chair by the lamp. She placed the fabric at the other end of her worn worktable and took a seat, savouring the coffee, still rare until the caravans began moving with some regularity in the new year.

"I hope he does," Legolas sighed, Hroth whining softly from his place by the fire, picking up the elf's emotions.

"Do you doubt my work, Lord Prince?" she asked slyly, blue eyes dancing. He tilted his head and raised a brow. "Your pardon," she smiled, "Master Legolas. I assure you, even Theoden King was pleased with what I could produce. This will be a beautiful garment when it's done. Just a little unusual. Like Eomer King himself."

Legolas smiled at her.

xXx

Eomer and Wulfric were roped back into the mad cleaning going on when they returned to the Great Hall. Malwyn had pots of stew ready for their supper, and once the heavy furniture was back in position, they joined Higa and Eothain. He noticed Herroth and Kerriath, dusty and tired, and waved them over to join them at the table.

"She pulled you from the stables, lads?" Eomer asked, as the boys shoveled in their dinner.

Kerriath pulled a face. "She sent Beowyn for us," he muttered.

Eothain chuckled. "Did you manage to find what was wrong with Arod's hoof, lad?" he asked.

"Nothing, my lord," Kerriath said. "I think you knew that when you asked me to check it." He looked up at Eomer's war chieftain. "Arod doesn't twitch without Legolas knows and comes to see."

"The Lord Prince, boy," Wulfric said, scowling.

"He lets _us_ call him Legolas," Herroth said pertly. Eomer frowned at him for a moment. The lad was very much like Merry, even in the face of his King he kept his cheekiness.

"You handled him beautifully," Eomer told Kerriath. "I wanted to see you with him, lad. You've a real touch with the horses. Even Firefoot likes you, and he's not always easy to please. Eothain told me that you've the making of a good farrier, and I agree. Would you like to apprentice with Dunstan for that?"

Kerriath's eyes glittered. "Yes, Lord King!" he exclaimed, dropping his spoon.

"He's a little young," Wulfric pointed out, taking a bite of his bread. "But his feel for them is sure."

Eomer looked steadily at his former lover. "He won't be a full time apprentice at first. He needs to finish his schooling as well or Malwyn and Gimli will have my hide."

Herroth looked a little enviously at his friend. Eomer caught the expression and chuckled. "Don't worry, my boy," he told him. "I'm taking you into my own service. I assume you'll be agreeable."

Herroth's blue eyes rounded with surprise as he gazed at his hero. "Can I really, Eomer King?" he asked, all the tiredness suddenly gone from his wiry frame. "Can I start right now?"

Eomer nodded. "Yes, by continuing your work at the school, too. I need you to have a clearer hand with letters that Higa here." The herald drew down his brows in a mock frown. "In the spring, we'll work something out for you to start training with Eothain, Higa and myself. Perhaps Kerriath will be able to help you choose a mount."

The boys looked at each other as if they'd been given the best Yule present ever.

xXx

When Eomer returned to their rooms, he found Legolas, wearing one of Eomer's sweaters again, cross legged on the floor beside the bed and carefully cutting up some of the clothes his father had sent. The room seemed too dim to Eomer for such work, but he was used to Legolas not noticing little things like total darkness. It was amazing to him what elf eyes could see.

"You're going to ruin your eyes," Eomer said automatically, but when he went to light the other lamp he discovered it was missing.

"Where's the lamp?" he asked. Legolas looked up, then around the room.

"Gone?" the elf suggested with a small shrug.

"I can see that," Eomer replied with a tiny hint of frustration. "Broken?" he asked cautiously. He'd made no attempts to hide his actions this afternoon and wondered if the elf had heard from someone in the Hall where he'd been and who he'd been with. "There were two when I left."

"Don't go there," Legolas told him, looking back down at his work, a dangerous edge to his voice. "I loaned it to someone who needed it. It'll be back."

"What are you doing?" Eomer asked. He considered trying to force the issue of Wulfric, but decided it was better to back away from it instead. He was definitely curious about this new activity. He went to get another candle, noting that there were conspicuously less than there had been yesterday. He sighed and lit a few anyway.

Legolas held up the tunic he'd been working on. "Ribbons," he said. "Mal said it would be appropriate for the girls. Some of these shirts and things are edged with them. I've almost finished, I want to make sure I've got enough for all of them." He motioned to the little pile beside him, gold, green, blue, red and silver. "What color do you think would be best for Beowyn?" he asked. I think dark green would look best in her hair, but both her dresses are blue."

Eomer sat heavily down beside him and picked up the ribbons, running the silk and satin through his hands. "This," he said, pulling a dark blue from the pile. "Girls don't usually braid their hair, love, but these would trim a dress." He stopped and shook his head, grinning ruefully. "I thought when Eowyn grew up I'd never have this conversation again," he told the elf.

Legolas bent to his work again. "You have daughters now, Eomer King."

"And sons," Eomer said, his eyes dancing as he thought of Herroth and Kerriath. "Stalwart sons who won't desert me for you or Gimli at the first opportunity, as the girls seem to do. What have you got for them?" he asked with interest.

"Buttons. Don't laugh. Mal said it would be something they could hold onto for a good tunic, or wear on a string if they like."

"You're not going to have a scrap of clothing left," Eomer protested. "Is that why you're wearing my sweaters all the time?"

"Of course not. I wear them because Mal insists I'm going to freeze in this balmy weather." He looked sideways at Eomer. "And they smell like you."

"Oh," Eomer said. He sat thoughtfully for a moment, still running the ribbons through his hands. "What were you going to give them all if you hadn't received all this bounty from your father?"

"Money," Legolas sighed. "I thought a gold each. But this is much better, much more personal and fun." _And it's keeping me distracted_, he thought to himself. _ Keeping me from rushing into something I'm not ready to face yet._

"I didn't know you took Yule so seriously," Eomer said. "Can I help?"

"Elves don't celebrate Yule," Legolas told him. "Aragorn explained it all to me years ago. I like it, celebrating the days getting longer, the feasting and drinking, all the singing and stories. This year it seems to be more important than ever, since the past year was so terrible. If you want to help, you can find something nice and heavy and start cutting it up into squares to wrap things into. I don't want all the buttons to get mixed up."

"Before you destroy your entire wardrobe and steal mine," Eomer said, getting up, "you have to promise me that you will keep at least a couple of your formal outfits." He flashed a wolfish grin at the elf.

"Why, Mir, I'm surprised at you," Legolas teased. "I thought you liked me as I am."

"And," Eomer went on, ignoring the jest, "Gimli insists that you wear one in dark green on Yule itself." He held up a hand. "No, I don't know why. He just said something about the children liking it."

"Fine," Legolas said, bending back to his task. "Pick out what you like and set it aside."


	26. White Winter Hymnal

A/N I'm having some trouble with my ff account. It's not tracking anything. Could someone please drop me a PM to let me know if it's showing up at all? Thanks so much!

**"White Winter Hymnal"**

_I was following the pack_  
_All swallowed in their coats_  
_With scarves of red tied 'round their throats_  
_To keep their little heads_  
_From fallin' in the snow_  
_And I turned 'round and there you go_

_~ Fleet Foxes_

The next morning, Fritha kicked up her heels at the idea of being left behind while the older children went to gather the greenery. She had been fairly placid about it until she found out that Eomer, Legolas and Gimli were taking them. Beowyn tried to bribe her with treats, but the little girl indignantly turned down every offer. Malwyn came up from the kitchens to sort out the commotion.

"Fritha, it's much too cold and far for you," Malwyn told her, in a tone that would brook no nonsense. But Fritha was counting on her champion and he didn't let her down.

"If I may, Lady Malwyn," Gimli said, as Fritha turned wet and expectant eyes to him. "I've a fur cloak to wrap her in. I'll take complete charge of her."

"My Lord Gimli," Malwyn protested, "she can't walk that far wrapped in fur." She pulled him to the side. "She has to learn that she must do as she's told," she whispered furiously.

"Aye, and she does, Mal," he whispered back. "But it's such a treat for her, and it's the Yule and everything. I promise you, Mal, she'll never forget this."

"Alright," a distracted Malwyn gave in, "but you let me handle this, Master Dwarf." She straightened and went back to the child.

"Fritha, as Master Gimli has asked especially for you to go with him, I'm going to allow it. But you must obey him in everything, do you understand?" Fritha nodded, her face wreathed in smiles. The chatelaine turned to her own girl. "Beowyn, why aren't you dressed?"

"I thought I would stay and help you, Lady Malwyn," the girl told her, smiling.

"Nonsense. I've made arrangements for you to have today free. Go, girl, you can't keep great lords waiting." With a gentle shove, she sent Beowyn off to get ready, giving the elf a sly wink.

And so it was that Gimli, mounted on Arod, held the little girl, wrapped up so tightly in a dwarven fur cloak that all that showed were her enormous blue eyes, went along with the rest of the children, Legolas leading Arod.

"It's never going to stop snowing," Eomer said to Legolas as he led the cart horse pulling the sledge. Although he and Gimli were wrapped up almost as tightly as the children, the elf wore nothing extra against the weather, not even the sweater Beowyn had made him. The suede of his green tunic was wearing at elbows and shoulders, where the harness rubbed, and the elf was thinking of having a new one made by Aelwyn after the holidays, when things settled down. He'd left quiver and bow at home, but felt naked without at least his knives. Just looking at Legolas made Eomer shiver.

"It's never as cold when it snows, have you noticed that," Herroth called from the sledge where all the children were piled in. Legolas had made sure to round up every child he could find for this trip. His heart was sore at how many of them were half or completely orphaned. It wasn't a long trip to the green copse, but they were enjoying the outing tremendously. Grinning up at the dwarf, Legolas started to sing a song Aragorn had taught him years ago, a song about snow and winter and warm fires, and the children gleefully joined in. Even Eomer joined in, booming out the chorus in his deep voice.

From her perch on Arod, Fritha twisted to look up at the dwarf. "You not sing, Gimmi?" she asked. She knew he could, of course. Legolas had been overcome one night, coming across the dwarf softly singing a lullaby in Khuzdul while she dozed in his arms. He'd crept away, not wanting to betray the dwarf's secrets or his own tears.

"I don't know it, child," he told her. "You sing, I'll listen."

"No, no, you sing," Fritha insisted. "I teach. We teach," she corrected. "'Wyn!," her piping voice cut across the snow. Three girls turned their heads, but it was Beowyn she wanted. "Gimmi not know song. We teach, yes?"

Legolas looked up at the dwarf, who caught his eye. "You were the one who insisted she understand the word teach," Legolas said, his smile huge.

"You'd be amazed at the words she's taught Dorf," Beowyn called out. Spending so much time with Malwyn was rubbing off on her, Eomer thought, grinning. Some of her terrified need to control everything around her had dissipated and she was much easier with people. But the bossiness would never leave. He might escape some of it, being the King, but she ordered the elf about with delight.

Beowyn immediately organized the lesson, having the children sing the line, and then the dwarf repeating it. Gimli, after his first flush of embarrassment, threw himself into the task with gusto, roaring out the lines, his rough burr on the chorus delighting everyone. He was rewarded by the light in Fritha's eyes as she patted him on the cheek with her mittened hand. He grinned down at her and tucked her back into the robe.

At the copse, the children tumbled out of the sledge, bits of straw sticking to their clothes, and began the search for holly and evergreen boughs. Legolas helped Gimli and Fritha down from Arod and the little girl ran, her little boots sinking deep into the snow.

"I've got you," Legolas said, sweeping her up in an arcing swing. She crowed in delight, while Herroth and his friends exclaimed at the abundance of the holly.

"Beowyn, lass," Gimli beckoned the girl. She came over, heedless of her skirts, one eye one the boys shimmying up the trees for pine cones. "Can you save some of the holly for me?" He whispered to her what he wanted, and she beamed up at him.

"Is that how they do it in Mirkwood?" she asked, delighted.

"His father does. But, it's between us, yes?" he said, looking over at the elf who held the little girl up to pick her own pine cones. She chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"Would it be alright if all of us picked some for it?" she asked him, her eyes dropping down for a second, then back up at the dwarf that she'd come to understand more than he realized. "It would be something that all of us could give him?"

Gimli's eyes twinkled. "That's perfect, lass!" he told her.

"Gimmi! Gimmi!" Fritha's voice caught him over the noise. She squirmed in the elf's arms and he set her down gently. She held out her hands to the dwarf, two pine cones sticking to her woollen mittens. "Happyule, Gimmi!" she told him, bouncing a little in the snow.

Eomer, surrounded by the boys, spoke seriously too them about the best branches to take. Wood was too precious to waste, so they would only take the best, the boys decided. Eomer found himself smiling as he was called over to inspect every branch before the older boys brought out their little saws. He worked up a sweat taking over the worst of the work, but only did enough to leave the boys feeling that they were the ones who had really cut each branch.

Beowyn had organized the girls and their little troop worked industriously, gathering the prickly holly and other greenery, stacking it neatly on sacks, ready to go in the sledge when the boys had loaded their branches. Legolas came over to watch and offer his assistance, and as the whispering girls fell silent at his approach, he wondered what was wrong. He was about to ask when a something hit him on the side of the head.

His reaction both terrified and reassured the girls. "Get down," he hissed, pulling his knives from his back, spinning to protect them from this unknown attacker. When he saw Gimli, with Fritha on his hip and another snowball in his hand, he roared at the dwarf. Eomer's laughter cut through his confusion, and he looked down at the little group of girls, huddled together, Beowyn's arms spread to protect the others. She was fighting to hold in her giggles. Fritha was clapping her hands in glee. He looked sheepishly down at the knives in his bare hands, then over at the girls.

"Thank you, Legolas," Beowyn said, fighting to keep a straight face, as he slid the knives back into their sheathes. "Snowball attacks can be very dangerous."

He lay a hand across his heart and bowed, but as he raised his head, he grinned wildly. "Always happy to be of service, ladies," he said, laughter in his own voice. He looked over at the dwarf. "As soon as you put that baby down, Gimli," he started, but Eomer had his troops in hand, and a flurry of snowballs hit him from all sides.

"Come on, girls," Eomer called, and the battle was on. Legolas, laughing still, danced between the cold missiles, making his way to the trees. He leaped into one, shaking the snow from the branches on the heads of Eomer and several of the lads. Beowyn led the charge of the girls, handfuls of snow flying though the air, covering them more than the elf who was leaping from tree to tree, shaking down snow, pine cones, and seriously disturbing several squirrels who chattered angrily at him.

With that uncanny knack children have of switching to the winning team, Eomer found himself the target, and when the elf managed to not only steal the king's hat, but stuff a large handful of snow down his back, the game was up. Laughing and brushing the snow from his hair, Eomer accepted the elf's hand, but did pull him down into the snow himself, before final victory was claimed. Not normally demonstrative in public, Legolas rolled the king over and down a small hillock, and if he managed to land a small kiss on Eomer's cold lips in the confusion, no one saw it before the children came clamouring down to help them both up.

xXx

The problem with Edoras, Legolas realized, was the lack of high places. Or, more precisely, the lack of any high places with any semblance of privacy. He needed to think, and it had always been his way to get as high into the branches of a tree, or rooftops when in a city, as he could when he did. However, climbing up to the thatch of Meduseld and sitting behind the chimney pieces was the best he could do here.

Gimli stood at the base of the building, bundled up against the biting wind. He scowled as he called up. "Lad! What's wrong with you now? You've got the Lady Malwyn concerned."

"Nothing, Gimli," he called back down. "Tell her I'm just checking the weather."

So the rooftops of Edoras were no good. There was just no help for it. He had to get out of the city for a while.

"Where are you going?" Eomer asked, meeting up with elf the hall. Legolas had added the quiver to his harness and carried his bow.

"Just for a run," Legolas said.. Eomer looked at him carefully.

"Are you alright?" Eomer asked, his forehead creased in that way the elf loved, but Legolas resented the question.

"Fine. Just need a little air." the elf said with forced cheerfulness.

"It's bitter cold out there, love," Eomer pointed out. Legolas sighed.

"I know," the elf said, meaning it was cold for the men around him. "Keep an eye on Hroth, will you? He wanted to come, but I told him to stay with you."

"Expecting trouble?" Eomer asked, nodding at the weapons.

"Venison?" Legolas suggested. The man nodded absently.

"You won't be out too late, will you?" Eomer asked.

"I'm not a child, Eomer King!" Legolas snapped.

Thankfully, there were few people on the streets this late in the day. The cold and the approaching darkness, coupled with the preparations for the Yule celebrations had most people busy in their homes or up at the hall. He waved and responded to those who called out greetings to him. Once he left the gates of the city, though, he sped off.

The closest trees were the evergreens where they would cut the Yule greenery. He made his way there and shimmied up to the top of the tallest fir. I need real trees, he thought, remembering the great mallorns of Lothlorien, the twisted boughs and trunks of Mirkwood, the ancient woods of Fangorn. Then he smiled and patted the fir in silent apology. It wasn't its fault it had to live on these winsdswept plains.

He made himself comfortable, looking out at the brilliant blue sky and finally gave his mind to the problem of Wulfric. Eomer had two possible reasons for speaking privately with the man, and Legolas didn't like the implications of either. He could be discouraging the man from trying to renew their affair and while he knew he couldn't spill hot blood on the snow, Wulfric might need to consider a guard of his own. His rage still simmered at the man's mere existence. Legolas clenched his fists, remember the insolence of the wink he'd given Eomer. Or Eomer had been warning him away from Legolas completely in the hope that the elf would forget him in the busyness of the season. While that seemed to the elf to be the more likely case, and it would be like Eomer to try and spare him grief, there was a tiny part of him that resented that Eomer didn't think he could control himself.

He ran through it all again in his head, and heard the dwarf's voice ringing in his ear. "If you're old enough to be married, you're old enough to work on it." He smiled at the look the dwarf had given him. So this afternoon, he would make his choices, find his limits and set this damnable thing to rest once and for all. For all their sakes.. The only thing the elf could control in this situation was his own reaction. And Gimli had been proud of him, he thought, that giving him comfort.

Finally, he let the thought he'd been pushing down the hardest come to the surface. He hadn't been very fair or considerate of Eomer in all this. While he'd been breaking crockery and playing games, Eomer had been patiently waiting for him to do the mature thing and talk. He hadn't thought that perhaps Eomer needed to talk about Wulfric, or how he'd felt, pushed into this situation.

When the sun disappeared completely and the early purple grey twilight gave way to the night, he left his perch and made his way back to Edoras. Once there, he sought out Wulfric.

"Lord Prince," the man said, inclining his head, when the elf found him in the hall.

"Wulfric," Legolas said, his face serious. "I would speak to you if you have a moment."

"My time is yours," Wulfric said politely, leading him down the hall and ushering him into the room he shared with two other men. They took one look at the elf and excused themselves. Quickly.

"Ale?" asked Wulfric, pulling out mugs. The elf nodded and the man handed him a tankard. Wulfric took a drink and stared at the elf with those dark eyes, so rare in Rohan, marking him as one of Malwyn's kin.

"How may I be of service, Lord Prince?" the man asked.

"I fear I can not be your friend right now, Wulfric, son of Ulfric," the elf said bluntly. "But the fault is not yours, it is mine."

Wulfric looked seriously at the elf. "I believe I understand you, Lord Prince. Thank you. I will try to stay out of your way."

"There is no need for that. Your kinswoman, the Lady Malwyn, she would like to see you, I think." Legolas went on. "I do not want to cause her any distress, you understand. She has been very kind to me."

"She's a good woman," Wulfric agreed. "She has a way of making things plain. Especially to those she loves" He grinned, a rakish thing, dark eyes sparkling. "I'm lucky that she loves me."

"Yes," Legolas agreed. He drained his tankard and put it on the table. He turned to leave.

"My Lord Prince," Wulfric said, as Legolas reached the door. The elf turned to face the man. Wulfric continued, his voice warm, "I don't mean to offend, but he never looked at me the way he looks at you." The elf left the room silently, shutting the door behind him.

xXx

"Well," the elf said, curled up in his chair, nursing his coffee later that night. "Let's talk."

"Now?" Eomer asked, looking up from the floor where he was brushing out Hroth's coat.

"You've been wanting to all day. Let's get it over with. I spoke to Wulfric this evening."

"You what?" Eomer asked, scrambling up from the floor and letting Hroth go gratefully back to his rug.

"I spoke to him." Legolas looked seriously at Eomer. "Did you think there would be a bloodbath? I left him exactly as I found him. All his parts are intact. So say whatever it is you need to."

All of Eomer's carefully rehearsed words disappeared. "I don't know," he admitted. "Mostly I wanted to apologize. I can only imagine how you felt when he showed up like that."

"Angry," the elf said simply.

"Was there something I could have done to make it better for you that night?" Eomer asked, his eyes concerned. "I don't think I handled it well. I was worried about why he was there, I was terrified you were going to kill him right there, and then I argued with you about how you were acting."

"I admit, I've never been very open to this conversation before now," Legolas told him. "But I would like to have it now. There are some things I need to know."

"Meleth nin," Eomer said, pulling his chair beside the elf's and sitting down. "I will tell you everything."

"Are there very many?" Legolas asked, the question uppermost in his mind.

"A few," Eomer told him. "Two were killed on Pellenor Fields. Wulfric you know about. There are three more, in the Mark, but not in Edoras itself. And there was a girl." He gave the elf a rueful smile. "She died in the Westfold."

The elf covered his heart with his hand, bowing his head for a moment. Eomer watched him carefully, as Legolas whispered the words in Sindarin. Then he looked up, his eyes troubled.

"I am sorry they are dead," he said simply.

"Thank you," Eomer told him. He reached out, touched the elf's hand. "What more do you need?"

"You tell me you did not love them, not as you love me," the elf said, his eyes troubled. "But you must have felt some affection for them."

"I did," Eomer said. "In some cases, a great deal of affection. Wulfric was a complete infatuation, I was carried away by my feelings for him, thinking it something more than it turned out to be." He looked straight into the elf's eyes, no evasion or wavering in his voice or his face. "It was a very heady feeling, to be chased, to be courted, to turn and see the desire in his eyes." He sighed. "I really he thought he might be the one."

"That's why he hurt you more than the others?" the elf asked.

"We are not as sensible as your kind, love," Eomer said. "We rush into love with expectant hearts and hope filling our souls. If it works, we marry." He shook his head. "And we get hurt in the process. It is very easy to mistake passion and desire for love."

"Your conversation with him yesterday, did it help?" Legolas evenly.

Eomer nodded, not at all surprised that the elf knew about it. He hadn't exactly been trying to hide or be furtive about it. "Like I said the other day, he's got no common sense. I wanted him to know that we're married." A half ashamed grin crossed the man's face. "I didn't want him trying to seduce you."

"Me?" the elf reeled back in shock. "Mir, this is a serious conversation!"

"Oh, I am serious, meleth nin, you are just the kind of challenge he relishes. And then I would have had to kill him."

"Thank you," Legolas told him, covering Eomer's hand with his own. "I did a great deal of thinking this evening. I have made some decisions about how I will handle this."

"Please don't take this the wrong way," Eomer said, no trace of a smile on his face. "But I need you to explain this to me slowly and carefully. I have trouble with the way your mind works sometimes."

Legolas smiled at him, a soft twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, I know. My Rohirric barbarian. Try and follow along now. There are several problems, the first one with Wulfric is that he showed up in my territory and made free with my mate. Apparently that releases something very primal and violent in me. In other words, I don't like it."

"Yes, I get that," Eomer said, hiding the smile. "But he didn't exactly 'make free' with me, Legolas."

"Elves don't wink at other elves spouses like that," the elf said. "But then, there's the other problem."

"The kinship thing, you mean?" Eomer asked.

"No, the fact that even if you didn't love him the way you love me, you did find something good in him." Legolas explained patiently. "You could never be attracted to a bad person, it's not in your nature. So Wulfric, and by extension the others, must be good men. I cannot kill a good man for something they did not do intentionally" He looked up. "Are you with me so far?"

"That's a very mature attitude, Legolas," Eomer said, relief washing over him. Legolas saw it in his eyes, the way his shoulders relaxed. Suddenly, he felt very sure of his decision.

"I will still have trouble with this. To be very honest, I would prefer to never know who any of them are. It still cuts me very deeply. But I want you to know that I am doing my very best to control it. I am more than my impulses. And you, Mir nin, have never given me reason to doubt your love."

"Legolas," Eomer began, his voice soft, his eyes tender. But the elf stopped him, reaching out to stroke back the man's hair.

"So I have decided that as long as none of your former lovers show anything but friendship towards you, I cannot kill them. However, if I find that they are trying to insinuate themselves back into your life, or if, Eru forbid, I find a man in our bedchambers, his blood is mine."

"It seems a fair compromise," Eomer said. "You'll never find one in here unless he's trying to steal the silver or something."

"Yes, I know," Legolas said. "It's a very comforting thought."

xXx

The Yule log was dragged up the main street of Edoras to Meduseld the next morning, every child able to taking even a short ride on it. Gimli waked beside Fritha, shrieking in delight, and other babies were held on, even if only briefly by parents or new guardians for the good luck it would bring in the new year. Malwyn had the hall ready with mead and warm drinks for everyone, and after the traditional songs, the log was set in readiness for the next night.

Legolas, Gimli and Eomer spent the day before Yule delivering the little gifts they had for the children. Gimli had carved something for each one, a horse, a cat, a small sword. Legolas snuck away to visit Aelwyn, who had exceeded his expectations, and had his gift for Eomer ready.

He presented Beowyn with her ribbons when she brought coffee up to the study. She was delighted, and to his surprise, held them up to her hair.

"I was told Rohirric ladies didn't braid their hair," Legolas said, beaming at her pleasure in them.

"Braid?" she asked. "Like yours?" She shook her head. "No, but they can be tied in. Legolas, they are perfect!" She thought for a moment. "Do you think I could?" she asked him. "Wear braids like yours?"

"Not like mine," he smiled, "but if you wish, come and see me in the morning, and I will braid your hair as if you were a young elven girl. It would be very pretty, with the ribbons woven in."

"Really?" she breathed.

"Yes, of course. Now, would you do a great favour for me and ask Lady Malwyn to come up if she has a free moment? It's no matter of importance, I'd just like to speak to her privately."

"You needed me, lad?" Malwyn asked, when she came in. Legolas stood up, suddenly nervous with this woman who had welcomed him so warmly, involved him so thoroughly to life in Edoras.

"I, I wanted to give you a gift, Lady Malwyn," he said, suddenly shy with her.

"There's no need to give me anything, my boy," she told him, stepping closer and taking his hand. "You've done so much already." She reached up and patted his cheek. "Just having you about the place is gift enough."

"No, Mal, please," he said, using the diminutive for the first time with her, and her dark eyes sparkled. "It's not much, but you've been so kind to me." He took the cloak from the desk and handed it to her, the pin on top.

"Lad," she breathed in. "That's much too fine," she started bu he cut her off.

"Please, Mal, for me?" he asked, concern filling his eyes. "I wanted you to have it as soon as I saw the colour. Please, try it on at least."

She looked up from the brocaded fabric to his face, and then took the pin, handing him the cloak. "Hold it out for me, please, Legolas." she said, watching his face relax as he wrapped her in the deep burgundy cloak. It was too long of course, but she fastened the pin, and beamed up at him. "It's perfect," she told him, and then pulled him down to kiss his cheek. "I'll treasure it always."

He surprised her by wrapping her in a close embrace. "I don't remember my mother," he whispered. "But I like to think that she was like you."

She wore her new cloak that night as they lit the Yule log. It would burn for the two days of the Yule itself.

Back in the privacy of their bedroom, Legolas brought out his present. He held it out to Eomer, who creased his forehead.

"For me?" he asked.

"I hope you like it," Legolas told him nervously. "I just got the idea the other day, and it was a bit of a rush."

"I'm going to love it," Eomer said, a wide grin on his face. He sat down on the side of the bed and unwrapped the cloth. Dark blue silk stared back up at him, so thin it was almost like gauze. He lifted the garment out of the wrapping and held it out in front of him. It all clicked in his mind and he smiled up at the elf.

"You hate it," Legolas said, his own face falling.

"No, I don't. I'm just shocked. I've never had anything so fine in my life." Eomer stammered.

"It's alright. I just thought that since you liked my silk shirts, it would be something you would like." The elf turned to the wine, pouring himself a glass.

"You haven't even let me try it on," Eomer protested. "I'm going to wear it every night." He stripped down and pulled the nightshirt over his head, doing up the buttons and smoothing the sleeves. "See, look how well it fits! And it's so soft."

"Stop, Mir, you don't have to do this," Legolas said turning around.

The sight of the burly man in the delicate fabric made his lip twitch.

"Don't you laugh at my Yule present," Eomer warned. "This is the second most precious thing I own."

"Second?" Legolas asked, raising a brow, his eyes dancing.

Eomer raised his right hand silently. Then he crossed the room and scooped the elf into a bear hug.

"It's perfect and I love it," he said into the elf's hair. "Stop laughing at me."

"Your legs sticking out," the elf said. "You could have at least taken your socks off."

"Fine," Eomer said, feigning indignity. "You can just wait for your own present until morning."

"Me? What did you get me?" Legolas asked eagerly.

"If I'd known you were going to laugh at me like this, I'd have gotten you a switch," the man said, reaching under the bed. He pulled out a cloth bag and handed it to the elf. "Sorry, it's not all pretty like yours."

"Turnips?" Legolas asked. "You got me root vegetables? I'm touched," he joked, feeling the sack. Then his face changed and looked down, then back up. "Mir, you didn't?" he asked, pulling out the gift.

The boots were good black leather, sturdy and cut to the pattern of the worn elven boots Legolas customarily wore. But the elven stitching had been replaced with a Rohhic design, picked out in gold. Legolas turned one over and over in his hands.

"I did. And next year you get nothing, laughing at my gorgeous finery." Eomer said, pouring his own wine and taking the chair. "Try them on. I think they'll be fine."

Legolas pulled them on, flexing his feet, then took a few steps around the room. He jumped to the windowsill, startling Eomer, and then back down.

"They're perfect! And so beautiful." He stuck his foot out to admire the stitching. "I'm going to wear these tomorrow."

Eomer shook his head. "No, you're going to wear the full elf regalia, Lord Prince," he said, downing his wine. "The children are expecting it. And your hair down."

"Down?" Legolas asked.

"Down," Eomer nodded. The elf sighed.

"Alright, I'll be right back."

"What? Where are you going?"

"Down to the kitchens. I'll have to give it a quick wash. I can't wear it down when it's been braided wet. You just get comfy in that nice new nightshirt of yours. I'll be back before you know it."

After caging some hot water and a lecture from Malwyn, as well as compliments on his new boots, he returned, towel drying his hair, to find Eomer snoring. The elf's face was gentle as he pulled the blankets up over the big man and perched on the windowsill, combing his hair out until it was dry.


	27. Bonfire Hearts

**"Bonfire Heart"**

_Days like these lead to...  
Nights like this lead to  
Love like ours.  
You light the spark in my bonfire heart.  
People like us—we don't  
Need that much, just some-  
One that starts,  
Starts the spark in our bonfire hearts  
_

_~ James Blunt_

Beowyn was at the study door early, despite Malwyn's warnings not to disturb the King. The elf's sharp ears heard the rap and he crept from the bed, a smile on his face as he looked at Eomer, snoring, tangled in the silk. He must be the only man in the world to be woken by his nightshirt sliding about, Legolas thought. He slipped into his own leggings and a cotton shirt and taking his comb and mirror from the table, let Beowyn into the study.

"Happy Yule, Legolas!" she whispered, mindful of the still sleeping King. "Did he like it?"

The elf gave her an odd grin. "He loved it, Beowyn. Next year we'll make him an elven coat, shall we?"

The girl smiled brightly back, and then held out her arms and gave a twirl, showing off the new dress. "Do you like it? The Lady Malwyn gave it me last night! She said I needed something good for festivals."

"It's wonderful!" Legolas told her. "And just the right colour for the ribbons."

He worked quickly, and gave her four braids, leaving the back of her hair loose, but attaching the braids in a formation almost like a cap. The blue ribbons flashed in and out of her golden hair, and brought out the dark cornflower of her eyes. She looked in the mirror in amazement.

"Happy Yule, Beowoyn," he told her, as she hugged him and headed back down to Malwyn. The feasting would begin at midday and last until late in the evening. He looked over the clothes Eomer had chosen for him to wear, and that he'd run some steam over with a borrowed kettle to get out the creases. If Eomer didn't like elven finery on his own person, he definitely knew what he liked on his lover, Legolas thought. The long, dark green overcoat was worked in gold thread, with designs of the great trees of the elven forests. The high collar had a solid half inch of gold satin stitch edging it. Dark green leggings and boots. He'd much rather have worn his new black ones, but Eomer had chosen a pair dark green enough to be considered black, the tops of which, that hit above his knees, were also worked in gold thread. In his mind he had a sudden image of Eomer and Thranduil closeted with tailors, designing him a new wardrobe and he shuddered. The shirt was a lighter shade of the green, also of that gossamer silk.

"Oh, Mir," he sighed softly, heading for his perch in the window. He was going to look so overdressed and overdone it would be ridiculous. His few gold rings, his one gold circlet, and a gold pin shaped like an oak cluster were also set up. He cheered himself by thinking it was only once a year. Or so he hoped. Summer solstice was going to be interesting.

Another quiet tap on the door caught his attention, and he opened it to Malwyn and Gimli, beaming at him. He'd figured Gimli would sleep at least another two hours, so his curiosity was instantly piqued.

"Happy Yule, Legolas," Malwyn told him, reaching up to kiss his cheek. Gimli just smiled at him, the slight bleariness about the eyes telling Legolas that Malwyn had routed the dwarf early on her own.

"We've brought ye something, lad," Gimli said. "It's from the both of us." He pulled something from behind his back and handed it to the elf. Legolas shook it out and held it in front of him.

It was a deeper green, more of the colour of moss in the Mirkwood than his old one, but otherwise, the suede tunic was identical. It even had the same embroidery motif worked into it. He looked from Gimli to Malwyn and back again. Then wordlessly, he slipped it over his head.

"It's wonderful!" he exclaimed. "How can I ever thank you?" he asked, embracing Malwyn and clapping the dwarf hard on the shoulder.

"Stop going about in that old ratty one," Malwyn said, her joy at his pleasure in the gift evident in her voice. "I've got standards to maintain, and the Consort running about in rags doesn't help."

His eyes darkened at the word and Gimli was about to say something, but Malwyn stopped him. "Off you go and get into your glad-rags, Gimli," she said, gently pushing him out the door. "I just need a quiet word with our Lord Prince."

"I know you don't like the term, lad, but you're going to have to get used to it or tell me what you do want. People are going to start looking about for something to call you."

"What's wrong with just Legolas?" the elf asked. He looked around the room. "Is it too early for wine? I need something and there's no coffee up here."

"It is Yule." She smiled at him. "The entire hall will be in it's cups by sundown. I'm sure you can handle it." He poured two cups and handed her one, clinking the goblets together. She took the chair he pulled out for her and leaned in to speak softly.

"The problem, lad, is that you're royalty. Not just at home, but here. It may not be known among the people that you two are married, but what they do know is that you act like you are. Yes, you are very discreet, and there will always be a few blowhards, but by and large, in a warrior culture like ours, it's not as uncommon as you think. What is uncommon is that instead of a King and a Queen, we've got a King and an Elf. The common folk feel uncomfortable saying Eomer King and Legolas. It's not respectful, and you've got respect in bucketfuls, lad. I would suggest Lord Prince. It is what you are, after all."

"Eomer King and Prince Legolas?" he asked, snorting.

"Eomer King and Legolas Prince," she corrected.

"No, it's always Legolas Thranduilion," he told her. "In Sindar the Prince would come first. Can we compromise on that?" he asked.

"It's probably going to be Eomer King and the Lord Prince," she told him.

"I guess I can live with that," Legolas told her. He ran his hand over the sleeve of his tunic. "This really is wonderful, Mal. Where did you get it done? I'll go there for all my clothes."

"Thanks, lad, I'll squeeze you in when I can," she grinned.

"You? You made this?" he asked prizing it doubly for her work.

"Gimli brought me the materials, mind, and looked after the dying. He couldn't quite match the other one. And we borrowed your old one for the measurements. Thank goodness you've finished your growth. Eomer was twenty three before he stopped putting on the muscle."

Legolas chuckled. "Mal, I finished my growth a long time ago," he told her. "Longer than you would credit."

"Leave it there, my lad," she told him, holding up a hand. "Gimli explained it in a way that lets me wrap my poor grey head around it. He makes me feel like a girl again after telling me how old he was."

Legolas was suddenly struck by a frightening thought. Malwyn read it in his eyes and laughed, so loudly that Eomer's snoring stopped.

"Lad, it's written all over him in letters big enough for any woman to read. We're good companions, that's all. Go, get yourselves ready. I'll send a boy up with coffee. Of all the foolishness," she said, still laughing as she left.

Eomer was wrestling with his nightshirt when Legolas returned. He looked up and his brow creased. "How do you sleep in this?" he asked, petulantly. "It was like trying to sleep in a rowboat, tossed here and there."

"I don't," Legolas reminded him with a feral grin. "What do you think? Gimli and Mal made it for me." He unconsciously imitated Beowyn's little twirl.

"It looks comfortable." Eomer said, giving up and pulling the nightshirt off, popping one of the buttons in the process.

"That looks like it's not, Mir," Legolas said, with a mock sigh. "I release you from your promise and you never have to wear it again. I don't know why you need to wear anything to bed anyway. The blankets are enough, aren't they?"

"Not in the deep of winter, they're not. You have to remember I haven't had your delicious self to keep me warm before this year. Don't be surprised if I wear socks when it gets colder."

"The ones Beowyn knitted for you? We'll have to get another bed just for them."

"They are a little thick," Eomer admitted. "My boots are tight when I wear them."

The door banged, and Legolas went to answer it. He found Gimli, the boy with the coffee tray, and Fritha, holding on to Dorf, who was wrapped in a bit of red flannel.

"Happyule, 'Glas," she said, reaching up to be lifted. He took her from Gimli and kissed the top of her head.

"Happy Yule, Fritha," he said. "You and Dorf are all dressed up aren't you? Happy Yule, Krith" he said to the boy, who nodded and set down the tray. "Coffee, Gimli?"

"Thanks, lad." Gimli said, sitting down heavily. "The lass needs to talk to you." He started to pour.

Legolas leaned towards the door and called out, "Eomer King, coffee's here! Will you get another mug from the shelf?," he asked the dwarf. "What is it, Fritha?" he turned his full attention to the child,

"'Glas, you make 'Wyn's hair all pretty?" she asked him, patting her own.

"Yes, I did." he told her, sitting down with her in his lap and taking the coffee Gimli handed him.

"You make mine hair all pretty?" she asked. He looked critically at her thin, almost white baby hair.

"Yes, but not like Beowyn's. Like mine," he told her, motioning to where he usually had his side braids. She pushed his hair back, looking for them, then back up at him, confused.

"Special Fritha braids," he explained. "With your pretty red ribbons at the end. Will you like that? You must sit very still."

"Yes," she said, clapping her hands so hard that Dorf nearly fell into the elf's coffee.

"Mornin'," Eomer grunted, coming out of the bedroom. Gimli handed him a mug, and he drained it.

"Happyule, Emmerkin," Fritha said, getting down out of Legolas' lap and reaching up to be picked up. Eomer swung her up and she kissed his cheek, than ran her hand over her mouth. He put her back down.

"You don't like my kisses this morning, Fritha?" he asked, flopping into his chair.

She scrunched up her face. "Scratchy," she told him, patting his knee. "Not all soft like Gimmi."

Gimli shrugged. "If you insist on trimming it, lad, this is what happens."

Fritha stopped her climb back into Legolas' lap and looked up at the elf. "No beard 'Glas?" she asked, as it had suddenly occurred to her. In her world, men had beards, women and boys didn't.

"Go ahead, 'Glas, explain this," Gimli said. Legolas shot him a look, and then pulled his hair back to expose one pointed ear.

"Elf," he told Fritha. "Pointed ears, no beard." She thought about it for a second, then shrugged.

"Hair now?" she asked. He nodded and went to get his comb and mirror.

"Hair?" Eomer asked Gimli, refilling his mug.

"Yonder elf did Beowyn's this morning. The little lass wants hers done too." He grimaced.

"What?" Eomer asked, noticing the dwarf's face.

"Never mind, maybe she'll forget," Gimli muttered into his cup.

Fritha sat very still as the elf gave her tidy little braids and tied giant bows at the ends with the red ribbons. She was delighted and crawled up into Eomer's lap to have them admired. Legolas downed his cooling coffee when the little girl held out her doll.

"Now Dorf," she said. Legolas looked at the tattered poppet, wrapped in his gay red flannel, doing his determined best to look festive, and shook his head sadly.

"Dorf has no hair," he said sadly. "No braids for Dorf, I'm afraid. But he looks very happy in his new outfit, doesn't he?" Fritha looked sad for a moment and then cheered. She left Eomer's lap and pulled Gimli by the hand.

"Yes, ready for happyule." she told them. "Now Gimmi."

"What?" Legolas exclaimed, as Eomer's coffee came up his nose.

Fritha regarded the sputtering king, the stunned elf and the glowering dwarf as if they had taken leave of their senses.

"Gimmi has soft hair, you can make pretty too," she told them. Eomer let out a howl, and Fritha scowled at him.

"Fritha, dearest, you know that Gimli is a dwarf," Legolas said, over Eomer's laughter, pulling her back into his lap. She nodded, wondering why the men in her life had all gone crazy. "It is very important that a dwarf braids his own hair and beard. He has to make special dwarf braids and I don't know how to do that."

"Oh," she said, looking sadly at him. Then she brightened. "Come, Gimmi, make special dorf braids." She reached over to tug his hand.

"One moment," Legolas said, retreating into the bedroom and coming out with a package. "Happy Yule, Gimli," he told the dwarf, handing it over. Gimli looked at it curiously, then opened the leather pouch and sniffed. He looked up at the elf with happy eyes.

"Longbottom Leaf," he said. "Thank you, lad. And your own work on the leather, at that! Why don't you see if you can't get the lunatic back under control in time for the feasting. I'll see you both down there." He was led out by Fritha, showing off her bows to everyone they met, her piping happyule heard ringing down the halls.

Once the door was safely shut behind them, Legolas' laughter matched Eoemr's.

xXx

The hall was full when they reached it. The children ran with the dogs and Hroth looked so longingly at them that Legolas nodded at him. The hound, growing by leaps and bounds, for all he'd been born a runt, joined in the game and his arrival alerted the children to the King's presence.

Legolas, having decided that if he had to look ridiculous, Eomer might as well too, had made sure the king was dressed in his best, the crown resting comfortably now on his head. He and Gimli, whose beard was spectacular in it's coiffure, followed a pace behind Eomer as he entered the hall, and Malwyn, wrapped in her new cloak, Legolas was delighted to see, led them up to the dais. She offered the golden cup to Eomer with the traditional blessing, and he drank and handed it back to her with the proper response. The hall exploded into noise and the general merriment of the day was underway.

Striding about in a full cut elven coat was not the easy task Thranduil always made it seem to be, Legolas noted, with just a touch of chagrin. He was worried about tripping, of all things, made worse by the crush of people. He was built and trained for action and all this material about his knees hampered him. But he made several circuits of the room, stopping to talk to everyone he knew, exchanging good wishes and greetings. Gimli and Eomer of course, not hampered at all, made their way easily, tankard always in hand. He tried some of the watered down and mulled Dorwinion, and while it wasn't bad, he was glad he'd kept some back for his private stores.

People ate and moved away and came back for another little bit of something, there was singing, and most of all laughter shook the hall to it's very rafters. Eomer sought out Malwyn to compliment her on the feast, and found her behind a door, wiping away tears.

"What, Mal, what's wrong?" he asked, concerned. He pulled her into a hug.

"I was just thinking about how it was last year," she admitted. "If we could only have known what this year would be like."

"This year, and every year from now on," he told her, wiping her eyes. "The people and the land will heal."

"Under you they will prosper, Eomer King," she told him. "I'm proud of you, lad."

When there was a lull, Malwyn gathered the children together and led them out of the hall. She spoke quietly to Eomer, who looked puzzled, but nodded and then she spoke to Higa. Once Eomer, Legolas and Gimli had taken seats on the dais, Higa called for silence. It wasn't easy with the crowd, but Higa wasn't Eomer's herald for nothing. When the hall had quieted down, he spoke.

"The children of Edoras have asked to present their Yule gifts to the King!" he bellowed. "Allow them that courtesy!"

Malwyn herded them back into the hall before the dais, and instead of the trembling there had been before Theoden's throne, the children were full of smiles. Beowyn claimed the honour of presenting Legolas with his gift and stepped forward.

"For the Lord Prince Legolas," she said, in her loud clear voice, "we gift him with greenery to remind him of his forest home. Every child here has picked a part of this crown." She took the holly wreath on a cushion Kerrioth handed her and stepped forward to the steps.

Legolas got down, and turning to check his coat, gave a quick glare to the dwarf, but his face as he turned, took off his circlet and knelt down for Beowyn to place the coronet of green and red berries on his flowing hair, was full of love and delight. He bent and kissed her on both cheeks, then faced the children and touched his forehead, his heart, and then spread his hand to them.

"I thank you," he said, his voice loud and rich. "Both for the gift and the love behind it." The hall erupted into cheering as he turned back and took his seat. Gimli was grinning at him, but there was no disguising the look in Eomer's eyes when he dared glance at him.

Higa banged his ceremonial spear for quiet again, and things settled down. Firtha stepped up, no fear in her small form, shaking her head to show off her bows, causing ripples of laughter in the crowd. Beowyn gave her a nudge and she ran to the stairs, not bothering to collect the gift from Malwyn, who smiled.

"Is pie, Gimmi, is special dorf pie! Wizzens, we all gived our wizzens!" she yelled, and then climbed up into his lap, as he looked at her and the assembled children in confusion. Malwyn came to his rescue.

"All the children asked to give their raisin ration to make this for you, Master Gimli. Meriadoc, Esquire of Rohan gave me the recipe before he left. The children wanted to give you a little taste of home this Yule."

Gimli's head dropped and his shoulders shook. Fritha looked at him, pushing back the hair. "Is happyule!" she called to the other children. "He likes it!"

The hall exploded at this touching scene. Higa wisely gave them a moment to settle and for Gimli to get himself under control. When he had, he stood with Fritha on his hip, and announced that he would share the pie with every child there, so they could all have a little dwarf cooking.

Herroth had, with Thathwyn's best efforts, been tidy at the beginning of the day. But he was a hard playing boy, and his curly blond hair was a mop even more reminiscent of Merry as he came forward. He held a scroll in his hand and read from it.

"Eomer King, We the children of Edoras, with parents or without, thank you for the care you have taken of us. We thank you for giving some of us a second father and for becoming a father to the rest of us. We pledge our love and loyalty to you forever more!"

He looked up at the stunned look on Eomer's face and went on. "Every one of us has signed it, Lord King. To show how we're learning at the school. Even Fritha," he said, and stepped forward to hand the scroll to his king. But Eomer was out of the throne, down the steps and had swept the boy into a fierce embrace. Legolas nodded at Beowyn, and the rest clustered around him, while the hall resounded to cheers and banging of tankards. Eomer hugged every child, and sat down on the bottom step of the dais and went over the scroll, where every child showed where they had written their name. It had been Herroth's idea, they told him, he had written it and brought it around for them all to see and sign, and they were so happy that he liked it.

When the commotion settled down there was more singing, and stories, and people going back for more food. Gimli and the children all got spoons and devoured the raisin pie. And Legolas listened to the epic telling how of he and Gimli came to the Rohan with rapt attention and a pleased smile on his face. He was lounging back in his chair, legs crossed, sipping on his Dorwinion, while Gimli held a sleeping Fritha, and Eomer shot surreptitious looks at him occasionally. When it was done, he applauded loudly, cheering for the singer. He had been a little surprised at how many people had joined in on their favourite parts. Eomer gave him a tiny wink.

Eomer stood, then and announced that they were in for a special treat. The Lord Prince Legolas would favour them with a ballad in his native tongue. Legolas raised an eyebrow at him, and then Eomer nodded at Gimli.

Legolas stood up, and with no accompaniment began Gimli's favourite song. His voice was clear and beautiful, and the unfamiliar phrases rippled like water in the ears of his listeners. For Gimli, it was a reminder of where they had started their odd friendship, and for Eomer, it was a chance to hear it without heartbreak. It was even more wonderful than he remembered.

Mothers started to heard sleepy children home, and even Fritha didn't make a fuss when Thathwyn came to collect her from Gimli. He gingerly untangled one of her braids from one of his bead clips, and Thathwyn carried the child home. Then he began his round of goodnights, finishing with Malwyn. She winked at him and told him the new throwboard was even luckier than her old one and challenged him to a game the next day.

xXx

Between the excitement and the emotion of the day, Legolas half expected Eomer to fall into bed as soon as they closed the door to their room. To his surprise, Eomer drew the curtains open, flooding the room in moonlight. Even more surprising, he opened the window, letting the cold air rush in.

"Come and look," he said, beckoning the elf.

"As soon as I take this off," Legolas told him, tugging at the holly wreath. "There's been a thorn in the back of my head all day."

Eomer was beside him instantly. "Here, let me," he said softly, gently untangling the prickle and taking the wreath off. He placed it carefully on the table while Legolas bent forward and shook out his hair. A stray berry rolled out and across the floor and the elf grinned at it.

Eomer came back to him and gently pushed the elf's hair back over his shoulders. Then he took him by the hand, their fingers entwining, and led him over to the window. "Look," he told the elf, letting go of his hand and waving at the view. The snow had stopped, the clouds rolled away, and the sky was alight with a frosty brittle brilliance, as only stars in winter can be. The moonlight reflected in the fresh snow twinkled with it's own light, echoing the skies above.

"The stars have doubled in their joy for you, Gilthenu," Eomer said softly, his arm reaching around the elf's waist. "Not even the skies can hold it all and they must share it with the snow."

"Mir nin, that's beautiful," Legolas replied, leaning into the man.

"You're beautiful. Everything about you. Tonight you encompass the earth. Is it any wonder that the heavens themselves do you honour?" Eomer whispered. "This is what you are to me, meleth nin." He wrapped both arms about the elf. "Every moment of my life, this is how you shine." He bent his head to rest his chin on the elf's shoulder, breathing in the fragrance of Legolas' hair, mingled with with the sharp smell of the cold, tinged with woodsmoke.

They stood there for perhaps moments, perhaps hours, time seemed to stand still. Legolas, overcome with the love of the man behind him and the beauty of the scene before him, reached up to run the back of his hand along Eomer's cheek and suddenly realized just how cold it was.

"Mir nin," he scolded softly. "You are worth more than this." The elf closed the window, and the man smiled as Legolas turned to face him. He took advantage of their closeness to kiss the elf.

"Your lips are cold," Legolas murmured, running his tongue along the bottom one. "Let me warm you up," he leaned in again, kissing the man again, the hunger he felt for the man creeping in. He ran his hands through Eomer's hair and one of the ornate rings he still wore caught in it. He growled, and once untangled, went to pull it off. Eomer stopped him, taking his hands in his own.

"Let me," he said, slipping it off, kissing the knuckle it had so recently graced. He pulled the others off, one by one, kissing the elf's fingers as he did, until only his silver ring was left. He looked up into the elf's eyes. "Better?" he asked. Legolas nodded, his eyes dark with desire in the moonlight. Eomer turned over the elf hands and kissed the insides of his wrists. Then he undid the cuff buttons of each sleeve, kissing the exposed skin.

Legolas moved his hand to the buttons of the coat, but Eomer caught his hand and kissed him lightly on the mouth again. "Let me, Lord Prince," he murmured against the elf's lips. "Let your consort honour you tonight."

"Mir nin," Legolas said softly, "You always,"

"Shh," Eomer whispered, pushing back the hair to kiss the spot where the elf's jaw met his neck. "Allow me to gift you this service, Lord Prince." For every button there were a dozen kisses and caresses, and by the time Eomer led him to chair, his shirt undone and sat him down Legolas was breathless and straining uncomfortably against the soft leggings.

Eomer had obviously found Legolas' private stash of Dorwinion, for he poured a glass, brought it over and gave it to the elf. Then he knelt and began removing Legolas' boots.

"Eomer King," Legolas said, a sultry smile on his face as he looked down at his lover.

"Lord Prince?" Eomer replied, flicking the hair from his eyes as he raised his head.

"Your service takes an inordinately long time," he drawled, his eyes flickering silver in the light of the moon.

"Do you object, my lord?" Eomer asked with a cheeky grin. Legolas raised a brow. "Then drink your wine, Lord Prince," Eomer said. He ran his hand up the elf's legs, brushing the evidence of his arousal quite deliberately several times as worked his way back up to the elf's chest, slipping his hands under the silk. Legolas put down the glass to avoid dropping it as he tangled his hands in Eomer's hair once again, and they shared several long kisses. Then Eomer pulled him to his feet again.

"Mir nin," Legolas breathed into his ear as he wrapped himself around the man. "You are making it very hard for me to control myself."

"Then my Lord Prince should stop talking and enjoy himself," Eomer said, reaching pulling the silk of the shirt over the elf's head. "His consort has been aching for this for days."

He trailed kisses down the elf's chest, his fingertips tracing lines of fire along his back. Legolas moaned as Eomer untied his leggings, and as soon as he was released and Eomer continued his stroking, he was overcome. Eomer, wiped him clean with warm cloths and dried him, and continued, until the elf was standing naked in the moonlight.

"Gilthenu," Eomer whispered, "Gilthenu, meleth nin," He moved behind the elf, lines of kisses down his spine, his hands always busy. "Mine," he whispered. "You are mine. And I am in awe."

Legolas turned in his arms to face him. "Mir nin, my treasure, my consort," he whispered, wrapping his arms around Eomer's neck. "Githenu, your Lord Prince, would have the king of Rohan in his bed." He nipped at Eomer's lower lip. Eomer grinned and reached to pull his tunic up, but the elf stopped him. "Fair is fair," Legolas said, with a lilt in his voice. Eomer groaned as the elf ran his hands under his tunic.


End file.
